Caliginosity
by Shade Mimir
Summary: When Draco Malfoy is badly injured during the war he looses his sight and finds himself a prisoner of the enemy. Ironically enough the only person he had left to depend on happens to be the same individual who blinded him in the first place.HPxDMslash V.2
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The noise here was almost unbearable. Screams and shouts had become an indiscernible cacophony. Most of the hexes flying overhead were silent but it wasn't difficult to pick out the occasional Unforgivable Curse. Such were the conditions of war. Even the ground was ravaged and raw. Lesions and fissures had been gouged out by wayward spells and any sort of plant life had died hours ago though it felt like days. Perhaps it could have been weeks. It was difficult to tell with war, though this one was on a relatively smaller scale than most of the other battles spoken of. Even so, it was the largest Harry had ever seen.

Trees lined this area, that much he was sure of. He recalled coming into a rather large clearing while it was still light out. The sun had just been grazing the tops of the trees. It had blinded Harry from where he was atop his Firebolt. He had looked over to his closest friends as they had drawn nearer to the battle site. Nothing had happened yet. None of them knew what to expect. Harry noticed that Ron looked decidedly paler than usual. His friend's eyes were fixed ahead despite the blinding light, his knuckles white where he was gripping the handle of his broomstick. He seemed to realize Harry was watching him and looked up, managing a weak sort of smile. Just past him, Harry saw Hermione looking very unsteady and keeping rather close to Ron. Noticing the direction in which Ron was looking, she looked to Harry as well and managed to contrive a smile of her own.

Harry could feel guilt building up within him. This was all his fault. They weren't even supposed to be here. They had only been at one of the camps. Everyone from the Order had been given their own share of those willing to fight. He'd been visiting Lupin when the news had arrived by owl. Harry had insisted he join and though Remus had objected there was really nothing he could do to stop him. Harry was of wizarding age and if he was going in Ron and Hermione were bound to follow.

It was only when the battle itself began that he realized he might just be in over his head. He had soon lost sight of Ron and Hermione. Not long after this, he had been knocked from his broom and there had been nothing to break his fall. He found himself in the thick of the battle, the darkness only broken by the passing light from spells. It simply wasn't in him to use an Unforgivable Curse on just anyone here, but caught in the heat of battle he found himself using _Sectumsempra_ a great deal. Flashes of green told him that the Death Eaters weren't hesitating to use the worst spells they could manage on their enemies. Somehow, Harry managed to avoid any direct hits himself. Caught in the frenzy of battle, he took down more Death Eaters than he could count. It was only when he saw the back of a tall, cloaked figure with greasy black hair retreating to the Death Eater's side that he stopped. Even if he hadn't seen the man's face he knew who he was now pursuing. The back of his head had been the last thing he had seen the previous year, the sight of him escaping that had dominated his nightmares.

"_Sectumsempra!_" He struck another Death Eater by mistake and merely leapt over the body and pressed through the crowds. Harry found him again. He was apart from the others and now running like the coward Harry knew he was "_Cru-!_" Harry suddenly tripped and fell. His body hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He raised his wand but by the time he could form words his would-be target was nowhere to be found. "Damnit!" Harry cursed, pounding the ground with his fist. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back over whatever had caused that nasty fall. He realized with a start that it was a body.

An ill looking man was sprawled out on his back, his shaggy light brown hair flecked with gray. "Lupin," Harry gasped, gathering his former teacher into his arms as best he could. He looked about quickly, trying to find somewhere they would be safe. Luckily, a gash in the ground proved both deep, wide, and close enough for Harry to get Remus there without too much difficulty.

This is where he was now. This was where he had stayed through the height of the battle. Terror had found a home beside the guilt within in. Lupin was still breathing but also still unconscious. There was no sign that he was badly injured but Harry knew there was a plethora of terrible spells that showed no such signs. It was entirely too obvious who had done this and he couldn't leave him until he was sure he was all right. At least this was what he told himself. In truth, no one needed much incentive to withdraw from all this carnage. Still, it was killing him not to know where Ron and Hermione were.

From where he kneeled on the ground, he could see what was happening above. Almost no one was still riding a broom. Everyone who was left was either on foot or face down in dirt and soot. Harry didn't see anyone he recognized though he wasn't sure that was something he should be thankful for. Even if he didn't recognize them, people were dead. A lot of people were dead. Harry hadn't expected the death toll to be quite so profuse. It was getting easier and easier to single people out on the battlefield yet there was still no sign of Ron or Hermione.

It was some time later, watching yet another wizard fall that Harry really did see someone that he could identify. It wasn't the wizard. He had seen so much bloodshed today he didn't feel much of anything watching another man fall, hit from behind with an unidentifiable hex. The man's face froze in a surprised sort of expression before he dropped to his knees then completely to the ground. His attacker was wearing the robes synonymous with the Death Eaters though he looked decidedly uncomfortable in them. He was also young, roughly Harry's age. Yes, Harry recognized him immediately. He was paler and thinner than ever now but his hair was still the same white blonde under all that dirt and his eyes still the same cold gray.

Malfoy appeared to be on edge, and for good reason. As long as Harry had known him, the Slytherin had never been particularly brave. He hadn't been a coward per se, but when it came to danger, Draco would most certainly save his own neck rather than stick it out for anyone else's. Harry watched as he looked hastily away from the body and about for cover. 'Not here.' Harry held his breath and ducked low. He couldn't stand Malfoy but could he kill him? He doubted it. Even the thought of so much as seriously injuring a peer made him sick. And what if he hesitated? Would Malfoy take advantage of that momentary lapse of common sense, of humanity and indecision? Most likely.

After several moments pressed up against the dirt ledge, Harry hazarded a look. He started when he realized Malfoy was standing almost directly above him. If he reached out his fingers would have grazed the hem of the other's robes and even if he did duck back down he would surely be able to see him if his eyes dropped only a fraction. Why hadn't he looked down yet? Harry wiped some of the grime from the lenses of his glasses. Draco was deathly still as a spell in the distance gouged another fissure in the earth. His eyes flashed a dangerous shade of silver as the sky was lit up and a cloud of dust enveloped the area. It was then that he thought to follow Draco's gaze. He looked through the hazy brown fog and over Lupin. There on the opposite ledge he finally spotted Ron.

Much like Malfoy, Ron was rigid. Harry's relief at find his best friend alive and unharmed was short lived.as he managed to get a firm grasp on the reality of the situation. Ron had hurried closer after spotting Harry, undoubtedly having picked him out from a distance at long last. It was by coincidence alone that Malfoy had been advancing on the same hiding place. Before either of them could quite reach it they had noticed one another. Harry recalled the night he had unwillingly hidden in the Astronomy Tower, beneath the invisibility cloak. Draco was no murderer but neither was Ron. Unfortunately, Harry was confident that if one of them ever was going to become a killer, Malfoy would be given the lighter shove.

Harry had no time to react. Malfoy did indeed raise his wand first. There seemed to be a million thoughts working their way over in Ron's head. He raised his own wand to defend himself but not fast enough. The noise from around them drowned out the incantation but the green light that shot out from the tip of Draco's wand was very recognizable. "Ron!" Harry was barely aware that he was running. He only knew that he was halfway to his best friend by the time he fell. The ledge was less of a challenge than he had thought it would be. It didn't slow him down at all as he planted one foot on a protruding root, launching himself up and over the edge. "Ron," he repeated. Why he kept calling his name was unknown to Harry. He wasn't expecting an answer, not really, but there was no time for emotional outbursts now. Harry forced down everything but rage as he looked back to Malfoy.

Harry met Draco's eyes as the other stood frozen where he was, wand still raised. There was a certain level of surprise there that Harry couldn't identify. Had he not realized what he had done or was he merely shocked by Harry's presence? The reason behind it didn't matter to him but the realization that Malfoy had the upper hand did. Harry had yet to draw his wand. He quickly concluded that Draco wasn't backing down and Harry readied his own wand, muttering a defensive spell when he realized that Malfoy wasn't aiming at him. Draco hadn't even noticed him yet. He was looking past Harry and past Ron, aiming at something specific. As Harry looked over his shoulder he blanched. It was as if a Dementor had pulled him into a close embrace. What Malfoy was aiming at was a 'who'. It was a head full of bushy mouse colored hair and the body of a female, keeping low to the ground yet rushing forward. It was Hermione.

Book smarts was Hermione's expertise. She didn't belong in a war zone. Harry knew she hadn't seen Draco yet. Like Ron, she had spotted Harry first but it wasn't long before she noticed who was with him. Common sense had deserted her. She cast aside any sort of caution and set off at a sprint towards Ron. Had she not seen Draco or did she simply not care? "Hermione, no!" But it was too late, Malfoy was already speaking the incantation, and his eyes were still fixed upon his next target. Harry spat out the first thing that came to mind "_Sectumsepmra! Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra!_" He slashed his wand wildly, repeating the word as forcefully and as quickly as he could. There was no flash of green. Harry had gotten to him first. Even if Ron wasn't, Hermione was safe. Even so, the sudden spray of blood brought him no satisfaction. The force alone had caused Malfoy to stumble back several steps. His arms had gone reflexively to his face before he had dropped his wand and fallen, crumpling onto his side.

There was so much blood on the ground, over Malfoy's face and chest and hands. He wasn't moving. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he had killed him. Another pang of guilt worked its way through him but he dismissed it immediately. Malfoy had deserved nothing more. Dumbledore had been wrong, he was a murderer. What he had done to Ron was unforgivable. Harry felt his breath hitch and catch in his throat as he choked back tears. Ron. If he hadn't insisted on being a part of this battle his best friend would still be alive. Harry made his way to Hermione, dropping down beside her as he struggled to quell a fresh surge of sobs that threatened to overwhelm him now.

Hermione had gathered Ron into her arms. Harry thought she looked exceptionally calm considering the circumstances. In fact she looked far too calm. They had both cared dearly for Ron but Hermione had cared for him in an entirely different manner. At least Harry thought she had. Now he wasn't entirely sure she was even upset by his death.

"We need to get out of the open," Hermione managed to keep her tone level. "Ron needs medical attention."

"W-what?" Harry could scarcely find his voice. He didn't want to state the obvious but he wasn't sure what to say. His eyes slipped down to Ron and it was only then that he noticed the rise and fall of the other's chest. "He's…alive?"

"Harry we need to take cover," Hermione insisted.

Harry had never been so relieved. "He's alive." He laughed weakly, shaking his head.

"Harry!"

Looking up, Harry realized that Hermione was right. None of them would be alive much longer if they kept sitting here. His relief suddenly faded into confusion as he helped her maneuver back into the chasm with Ron. If that hadn't been the _Avada Kedavra_, what had it been? It suddenly occurred to Harry that this was the least of his worries. "Hell," Harry cursed under his breath, feeling ill as he got to his feet again. He was weak from fatigue but found the energy necessary to take off at a run again. Surely Draco wasn't dead. After all the grief he had caused Harry at Hogwarts he couldn't be this easy to kill. But what if it had been that easy? The last time he had used the spell it had done more damage than he had bargained for and even then he had only used it once. 'Don't be dead Malfoy'.

Harry nearly dropped back off the ledge he had just managed to climb over. There was blood on the ground, a great deal of blood, but no Malfoy. Harry looked around desperately. He couldn't have gone anywhere on his own and Apparating was out of the question as well. There would have been a trail of blood had someone carried him away, not that they would have had time. He supposed a side-along Apparation might be possible but who had been close enough to get to Draco so quickly and without his noticing?

"Harry! What are you doing?"

The voice had come from a low angle. Harry didn't even look down to Hermione. He was still scanning the sparse battlefield for his adversary, for the familiar white-blonde hair of a Hogwarts bully, for Draco Malfoy of all people…Harry had made a mistake. If Malfoy was dead now it was all his fault. "How's Lupin?" he asked weakly, bargaining with her by dropping to one knee rather than taking cover again.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Get back down here." Now her voice was sounding strained as well.

"Lupin!" Harry snapped impatiently, "Is he awake yet!"

Hermione didn't seem entirely sure how to respond to being shouted at in this situation "How should I know! He could be anywhere."

"What?" Harry spun back around, peering down the opening in the earth.. Hermione was there, standing at its edge, now only wearing her casual clothes. Ron was lying on the ground close by, Hermione's robes folded up under his head. True to Hermione's word, there was no Lupin, no second body on the chasm floor. Harry put a hand over his heart, grasping the fabric of his shirt, and closing his eyes tight. It was so dark now that closing his eyes made little difference. The air smelled of gore and the noise had died down. This battle was over. The absence of cheers told Harry that the casualties on both sides had been so devastating that there was no real victor, just a handful of people left alive. Ron was lucky to be breathing, Hemione was, for once, blissfully ignorant, and Harry was in all likelihood, a murderer.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lupin's camp consisted of just that, a camp. There were a dozen or so medium sized tents separated by three larger shelters in the center. The left side of the camp housed the males while the right was reserved strictly for females. Unsurprisingly, each tent was bewitched so that the interiors were significantly larger, with ample room for bunk beds and living space. One of the tents between the two sections was a cafeteria that was far from as nice as the Great Hall of Hogwarts. A second tent was a bathhouse, two areas sanctioned off inside for their respected sexes. The remaining structure was a medical clinic. There were two doctors on staff there, though neither had much experience in the field.

Hours earlier, this camp had been quite lively. After failing to find an unoccupied set of beds, Harry and Ron both ended up in sleeping bags on the floor. Just that morning, everyone had been in excellent spirits and exceptionally friendly. At this moment, the camp was almost unrecognizable. The silence was terrible and broken only by the sounds of sobs or orders dealt out in listless, monotones. Harry was sitting by himself at the end of camp, having found a half-decayed log at the edge of the clearing. Hermione was with Ron who was, Harry imagined, still waiting in the infirmary. As he had guessed, half of the wizards and witches from the camp had been killed in battle. When it came to casualties, it seemed they had broken even with the Death Eaters, which made the battle quite useless, didn't it? To Harry, it seemed all those deaths had been for nothing.

Despite all his moping about, Ron and Hermione were still safe. He should be thankful for that, right? He couldn't bring himself to be relieved, Lupin was still missing and then there was the matter of Malfoy. He recalled the previous year, when he had come across Draco crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Back then, he had used _Sectumsempra_ without any clue as to what the consequences might be. On the battlefield ,he had known exactly what the aftereffects of using it would be and he had carried out the spell anyway. He had used the spell multiple times, all at once, and on the same target. '_I really did kill him.' _Harry buried his face in his hands but had little time to beat himself up over the matter as a flurry of popping filled the air. Harry jumped to his feet, his hand shooting to his wand

"Woah Harry, stand down." Nymphadora Tonks smiled, raising her hands in mock defeat. Her hair was a dark shade of green to match the foliage around them, but Harry noticed that the color wasn't as dramatic as usual. A brown tinge to the roots told him that she must be worried about something. He knew he needn't ask what it was she was worried about, though.

"Sorry, you startled me." Harry replaced his wand, his eyes moving over two men and a rather nervous looking woman.

"You three go on." Tonks nodded to the companions flanking her. All three hurried off towards the infirmary tent as their commander stayed with Harry "They're doctors. Two are from Mungo's actually. Lupin sent me an owl this morning, told me to keep an eye on things."

The relief Harry had been hoping for finally showed itself. "You talked to Lupin!" Is he all right! Where is he?"

Tonk's smile strained slightly. "He's just fine. He's just taking care of a few things but he told me he'd be back by this time tomorrow."

"What kind of _things_?" Harry asked warily. He didn't trust many people to tell him the whole story these days.

Tonks only shook her head. "Sorry, Harry. There's no telling who's listening in on what these days."

It wasn't that Harry was angry, just growing impatient. "You mean there's no telling who's under the Imperious Curse."

"Well, that too," Tonks continued before Harry could cut in. "And I can't tell you where he is either, but don't blame that on me. I'm not the Secret Keeper."

"But it is a base then?" If there was need for a Secret Keeper it had to be a base or headquarters of some sort.

Tonks nodded, though she didn't seem particularly enthused, being drilled for information like this, especially not by Harry. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" she asked, clearly trying to shift the subject.

"They're fine." Harry took a step back, sitting back down on the dead log just behind him. "Ron is in the clinic, but he's all right. Hermione is with him. They don't have enough room for more than one guest per patient, I'm sure."

Tonks had seemed torn between staying with Harry and following after her companions until the mention of Ron coaxed her into taking a seat as well. "What happened?"

Harry was relieved to hear that the urgent tone to her voice was genuine. At least this war hadn't changed her kind nature. "I don't know…" he admitted. "He was hit by a curse, but I have no idea which. I thought…" Harry allowed his voice to trail off. The mention that he had made such a terrible mistake wasn't something he cared to explain unless absolutely necessary. He shifted the subject to an equally uncomfortable topic. "Have you seen…I mean the people who were killed…did you-"

"The casualties?" Tonks offered with another weak, understanding smile. "Yeah, I helped the other Aurors make up a list of the names. We're supposed to contact the families personally, but the Ministry offered to do that for us as long as we took care of transporting the bodies. We can't spare anyone right now…and it's just as well…I don't think I could have done a job like that you know?"

Harry's patience was wearing thin. Tonks was a dear friend but he didn't feel much like provoking small talk. Of course, it wasn't as if he had anywhere to go right now. "No sign of Snape?" It wasn't really a question.

"No." Nymphadora shook her head. She seemed neither disappointed nor pleased relaying this news. "We'll find him Harry, don't you worry about that."

Harry realized that he must look as terrible as he felt and promptly shook his head "It's not that…Tonks…did you see anyone you recognized?"

Common sense seemed to tell Tonks that there was something more to her young friend's question "I saw a lot of old acquaintances. Who is it you're worried about?"

"No one," Harry said grudgingly. "What did you do with the Death Eaters?"

Tonks didn't appear put off in the least by Harry's present mood. Given what he must have gone through yesterday, his attitude was completely understandable. "Buried them of course. There's really nothing else we can do with them. Come on, Harry, out with it. Who do you want to know about? Just give me a name."

Harry supposed there was no harm in asking, aside from being terrified of the answer he might receive. "Malfoy," he spat out before he could second-guess himself for asking. To his surprise, Tonks looked away.

She was working something over in that clever mind of hers. "Which Malfoy?" she asked at long last, looking back to the wizard at her side.

"Draco." Harry met her eyes and made a point to keep them linked. She wouldn't keep anything from him this time. There was no excuse to lie about this sort of thing. "He was in my year at Hogwarts. I'm sure you know who he is."

"I know who he is," Tonks countered quickly, frowning now. "You know, you're a right little git when you're in these moods of yours. No, I didn't see him." Harry wished he could feel relief, but he only found himself all the more confused. Fortunately, Tonks wasn't finished speaking, "But Lupin did tell me you did quite a number on him."

Undiluted shock was all that was coursing through Harry's veins now. Confusion and guilt could wait. "What?" he breathed, his green eyes widening as those of a glittering brown hue stared him down.

Tonks glanced over her shoulder and stood. She took a step deeper into the foliage and motioned for Harry to follow. Harry didn't hesitate to succeed after her. The forest was empty and quiet, the canopy above and greenery around them gave the two all the cover they could wish for. No one would be able to see them here without giving thorough pursuit. It was no wonder she would wish to speak here. When at last she stopped, she was again unspeaking. Harry studied her distant expression as she watched some far off point. He had just opened his mouth to draw her attention when she finally managed to articulate her thoughts, albeit slowly, "You used…dark magic on him…right, Harry?"

"It was in defense," Harry spat out hurriedly before it occurred to him that he was only making excuses for himself. "I did…I thought he was going to kill Hermione…I thought he had already killed Ron."

Tonks put a hand on his shoulder. Harry could see the hunter green of her nails from the corner of his vision and the smile on her lips again. He couldn't bring himself to look at her right now. "We know Harry. Remus told me what must have happened in his letter." Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper "He took Draco with him in a Side-Along Apparation."

Harry struggled to get a full breath. "S-so he's alive?" The burden, all the shame and guilt had created, seemed to lessen slightly, and he looked up again. Tonks' expression dropped the burden back upon him, this time from a considerable height "I killed him?" He nearly gagged on his words.

"Not exactly." Tonks gripped his shoulder in an attempt to both steady and calm him. "He's not dead, but he's not in great shape either…"

That wasn't the deliverance Harry had been hoping for. He paused before continuing "So he's dying then?"

"Well, that's just it." Tonks shrugged minutely. "No one's sure. You see, it seems the Death Eaters have been employing a new defensive charm. It blocks enemy spells to some extent. The problem is that it blocks _all _spells preformed by anyone who isn't on their side. Well…'all' to some extent. You see it wouldn't block especially powerful hexes, or an Unforgivable Curse, but _ditany_, er, any healing magics really just don't get through. Guess they never expected an enemy to give them medical attention. Or they would sooner die than be a prisoner of war…I'm sure that's the way their _'Dark Lord'_ would have it anyway." She shook her head. "I'm rambling, aren't I? You see, Harry, the thing is that muggle medicine is the only option left and none of us really know much about that."

Harry found it difficult not to raise his voice in protest to this logic. "Can't you find a doctor then?" There were plenty of Muggles who were kindred to other wizards. He was sure at least one of them had to be a doctor, or a nurse, or something of the sort.

"Do you know how much paperwork it would take for the Ministry of Magic to allow us to drag a Muggle into this? The boy would be dead and rotting by the time they approved something like that…And that's if they approved it mind you," Sarcasm saturated her words as she spoke of the Ministry. Her opinion of that lot was apparently quite low presently.

Harry wasn't as quick to retort as he didn't doubt Tonks' words. That had sounded about right but regardless, someone needed to help Malfoy. His train of thought snagged there. _Help Malfoy? Why?_ "If he does survive, what are you going to do with him?"

Tonks cringed slightly, apparently at the mention of being included in the 'you' that was letting a young boy die. "He would be questioned, of course. You know about the break in Azkaban. With his father out w-"

"The Malfoys' cooperation for their son's safety." This hadn't been a question, so Tonks merely nodded in confirmation as Harry toyed with the idea. After several long moments of silence, he shook his head. "It just seems wrong, even for a Malfoy."

"War's wrong Harry," Tonks' tone was flat now. "You can't expect the Death Eaters to play fair can you?"

Harry suddenly felt childish. "No." He shifted his gaze into the distance. If Malfoy died, it would be his fault. If he lived and was kept a prisoner, that would be Harry's fault as well. For all the years he and Malfoy had despised one another, Harry would have never wished this on him. The Slytherin had been many things, a bully, a rival, a drawling bastard, but when it came down to it he had been more talk than anything else. The Dark Arts had fascinated him, or rather, taking after his father had. Malfoy could say cruel things and perhaps inflict the most superficial of wounds, but that was all. He deserved a sound thrashing but not this. He didn't deserve to die surrounded by strangers who not only didn't know what to do, but could care less whether he lived at all. "I probably know more about muggle medicine than anyone else there. Let me go."

Tonks actually seemed surprised by the proposal. She shook her head and opened her mouth to object when Harry interjected, "It's worth a try isn't it? If there's nothing you can do for him what will it hurt if you at least let me try?"

"I don't know Harry…" Tonks' uncertainty only lasted an instant. "All right…I'll have to ask Lupin. I can't Apparate you there without permission. It shouldn't take too long." She took a step back towards the camp. "I have to go check in with the second in command before I leave. I won't be back until tonight at the earliest so you try to get some sleep, okay?"

A nod from Harry seemed to be enough. With a quick wave, she retreated into the clearing once more. Harry remained where he was several moments longer. Ron and Hermione wouldn't be happy about this, but they didn't know what had happened, did they? He was dreading breaking this to Ron, Hermione was bound to be infinitely more understanding than he would be. He might have been a wonderful friend, Harry's best mate, but sometimes he was as close minded as the Malfoys. Ron could hold a grudge that would rival the stubbornness of purebloods with the worst of self-centered complexes. There was no backing out of this, though. Harry had made up his mind as well and he could be just as obstinate, if not more so, than Ron.

With a deep breath, Harry headed back towards the camp. Tonks probably had a point; he hadn't slept at all the night before and if she took him to the base where Malfoy was being kept he might not have another chance like this for some time. Harry walked on and emerged into the clearing himself. The tent he had been in with Ron was likely to be deserted now. All its tenants were presently deceased, injured, or with a close friend. This made it something of a shock to find Ron occupying one of the bottom bunks. Hermione was seated in a comfortable looking padded chair beside the bed, having spread several books out along the edge of the mattress.

Ron was conscious and looked up as he heard footsteps. "Harry," he called with a smile. Hermione closed the book in her lap and looked up as well.

Harry raised his hand in greeting and crossed the room to the lower bunk behind Hermione. "How are you feeling?" he asked, taking a seat.

"Just confused." Ron appeared quite tired as well, as if he was going to slip into a deep sleep at any moment. Harry supposed this was far better than the other possible alternative right now.

"He volunteered to come here when he woke up. They needed the space. I'm watching him." Hermione stacked the book on top of the others. "They said he'll be fine."

"Then you can go back to your own tent," Ron grumbled throwing his arms over his face with a groan.

"He's just embarrassed and grumpy," Hermione said dismissively, receiving another groan from Ron.

Harry smiled faintly and reached down to untie his trainers. "Do they know what hex was used?" This question had been bothering him ever since he had realized that Ron was indeed alive. He listened closely as he stuffed his shoes under the bed.

"They don't know yet," Hermione said hastily. As Harry looked up she caught his eyes and shook her head in warning. There was a knowing look in her eyes that advised Harry from pursuing that subject.

"What are you reading?" Harry swallowed and pulled his legs up onto the bed, folding the pillow over.

"Some books they found on the Death Eaters." Hermione shot Ron a dirty look as he snorted and rolled over. She lowered her voice. "They had already done all the necessary investigations and I thought they could be useful to us."

She was looking for information on _Horcruxes. _Was there really anything else they needed to know? "And they just gave them to you?" Harry asked skeptically, lying down on his back and staring at the bunk above.

"Of course. Well…no…Sort of." Hermione took the stack of books and placed them at her own feet. "They didn't want to at first but I pointed out that they were only going to be destroyed, and presently there are no wizarding laws against reference texts."

"She used four books about the legal system and your name…It took three hours…" Ron muttered into his pillow as Hermione rolled her eyes again and placed the book back in her lap.

Harry couldn't help but laugh again. "Tell me if you find anything worth while. I think I'm going to try to get some sleep." He knew he should say something about Malfoy. Had Ron mentioned what had happened the night before he would have done just that, but Ron was tired and so was he. "Good night." He heard two distracted, 'Nights,' and a softly spoken, "_Nox," _as he began to close his eyes. _"Lumos."_ The last thing Harry saw that evening was Hemione hunched over, concealing the lit wand and herself in one of the ratty bunk bed blankets.

_Harry woke to darkness. He recalled the lights being extinguished, the dark, but not like this. It had never been this constricting. The course cotton of the pillowcase had been replaced by smooth satin and if he was in fact in his bed, he wasn't alone. There was something moving over him, more than one something. It was crawling over his legs and his chest, he felt his hair rustle slightly as another slipped past his head with an unnerving hiss. Harry froze. It was only when a flickering tongue grazed his right cheek that he lost his resolve. He jerked upward only to strike something solid. "Ron! Hermione!" he called out to his friends as he beat against the wall above him. The wood shuttered and creaked but didn't budge. If anything, he was only annoying his new companions. He continued kicking as he groped for his wand._

_Harry had little time to discover that his wand was missing. He felt the satin cushioning he was lying upon pitch upwards. Suddenly, Harry was standing upright. The wooden wall before him swung open and he was flung forward, hitting the ground hard. Harry scrambled onto his knees and looked back just in time to see the faint outline of a coffin skew itself into what looked to be a wardrobe. There was the clicking of a lock moving as Harry managed to get to his feet. The double doors were flung open forcibly; snakes tumbled out as a rather large wolf leapt onto the ground and ran directly at him. Harry stumbled back, tripping and falling into a sitting position, just as the wolf veered to the right. It was only now that Harry took notice of his surroundings. It was still night, but a full moon hung low and round in the sky. The light it reflected lit the battlefield where he had last seen Malfoy, the land now barren, charred, and blood soaked. _

_The wolf loped into the distance, its fur was a light brown and the moonlight gave it an eerie sheen. It vanished on the horizon line but this was the least of Harry's worries. He was almost too frightened to look back to the wardrobe. A rustling there told him something else was emerging. A familiar laugh told him he wasn't going to like it and as he looked back this assumption proved true._

_Ron and Hermione stepped down from the wardrobe together with all the grace of the Inferi. Hermione's bushy hair suddenly seemed heavy and lank, framing a smile that held no real mirth nor warmth, nor any human characteristics at all for that matter. She and Ron seemed to be supporting one another, Ron appearing much taller than Harry remembered. They were approaching him. Common sense told him he should move away but instinct kept him seated where he was. These were his friends. These were his best friends. He extended a hand to Ron as both leaned down toward him. It gave Harry something of a start when Hermione let out a pained scream and fell back, Ron following suit with a pained exclamation of his own. Blood ran from new rips in their clothing and from exposed arms. Both Ron and Hermione had been backed up to the wardrobe by the same snakes that had fallen from it first._

_Harry opened his mouth to tell them to 'stop' but both English and Parseltongue had escaped him. He watched helplessly as his friends rounded the wardrobe rather than enter it again. No sooner had they vanished from sight than a brown and gray blur passed Harry by. The wolf leapt back into the wardrobe, its foremost feet slamming into the back of the cabinet and toppling it over with the excess force. A grave. The wardrobe had been perched upon the edge of a grave. Harry watched in horror as the wardrobe took everything with it. The shape of the grave widened to accommodate the wardrobe, the wolf, Ron and Hermione, even the snakes that fell below ground._

_The ground itself contracted as Harry stood. As he rushed forward, he saw the grave shrink in size, becoming as narrow as any regulation coffin now. "Ron…Hermione…?" he called weakly, slowing to a stop as he came to the base of the grave and peered over the side. It came in an immediate flash. The snakes, his friends, and a wooden coffin, two 'I's etched crudely into the lid. It all came in one green tinged flash before two firm, cold hands gripped his shoulders from behind._

Suddenly the hand on his shoulder wasn't quite so masculine. _"Harry, Harry." _hissed a voice from above. Yes, definitely a female. Harry opened his eyes to a find Tonks' face very few inches from his. "Shh, Harry. We don't need to wake your friends. Time isn't on our side right now and there's none to spare for an explanation. It isn't looking good, Harry. We have to leave and now."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Harry hated Apparating and was sure he always would. The sensation of ones lungs compressing along with the rest of his body was not something he ever wished to get used to. Regardless of how much time it saved, it was a completely wretched way to travel. He was still gripping Tonks' arm when he managed to draw in a full, sharp breath of fresh air. It sounded as if she was trying very hard not to laugh, and as he released her arm, he did catch a slight smile on her lips.

"You get used to it," Tonks offered, stepping up to knock on what Harry soon recognized as the back door to the Burrow. She didn't wait for an answer, instead, she removed her wand from her back pocket and gave the door a tap. Harry supposed the door would only open for a select few wizards and witches. A magical signature of sorts likely had something to do with this. Regardless, the door had swung open before a second tap was necessary. A sleepy looking witch in a flowery, pink, dressing gown was there to intercept them. "Oh, Nymphadora," she yawned, holding to edge of the door to keep it open as Tonks entered, ushering Harry in before her.

The Burrow was dimly lit, several lamps were all that illuminated the individuals still awake. Harry looked around, deciding that this looked to be more of a resting-place than an actual base. From what he could see of the next room there were camp beds and pallets spread out where they were needed. Eight or so, wizards seemed to be on this floor: five of which, he supposed, were asleep. Other than the tired older witch closing the door and trudging back to bed, Fred and George were at the kitchen table. They seemed to be sorting through a rather large pile of letters that were spread out between the two of them. Regardless of their evident workload, both abandoned the task at hand as they took notice of Harry.

"Harry," Fred called in a hushed tone, smiling and motioning their former schoolmate over.

Tonks nodded when Harry hesitated. "I want to find Lupin before we do anything, go on. I'll just be a minute."

Harry watched her disappear up the stairway with a slight pang of disappointment. Fred and George were his friends, but at the moment he was far too nervous to carry on any sort of light hearted conversation.

"Oi!" George leaned over the table, motioning extravagantly. "Harry!" he hissed a bit louder.

There was no way around this. Harry gave in and went to the table, taking the seat Fred pulled out for him. He remained seated on the edge. His subconscious was very uneasy about the matter of getting comfortable. There were more important things to do right now than relax.

"You're here because of that little git upstairs, right?" George had taken a seat again and was shoving some of the papers before him into a hasty, sloppy semblance of a stack.

Harry wasn't sure he had any right to insult Malfoy at the moment, and there was a noticeable pause before he nodded the affirmative. The twins seemed to pick up on his discomfort. Fred's tone was almost apologetic when he spoke up again, "We just don't see why he's here at all."

George shook his head. "It's because they knew Mum would be the only one who would take him." He handed a letter across the table to his twin.

"Mum's too nice for her own good. She just won't accept it when someone is no good," Fred concluded, taking the envelope from his brother.

Harry knew that Fred probably hadn't been referring to Malfoy then as much as his older brother, Percy. It seemed everyone but Molly had given up all hope for rekindling that relationship. Even Harry had to agree that this was a waste of time. Percy hadn't even been present at Bill and Fleur's wedding, which had been quite lovely and taken place over the summer. Of course, this was also one of the last things on his mind.

This was never a very pleasant subject for anyone and George didn't hesitate to change it. "How's Ron?"

So they didn't know the details behind why Malfoy was here. Harry didn't care to fill them in. "He's fine," he said quietly, leaving the matter at that and continuing to wait rather impatiently. He glanced back to the staircase Tonks had taken. This was making him uneasy. Had they been too late? Of course they weren't too late. Harry dismissed the notion and looked back to the twins, attempting to lighten the mood marginally. "What are all those?" he asked, motioning to the pile of letters.

"Orders," Fred held up a clipboard full of product names, customers, and a great deal of sloppy checks and scribbling along the corners.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes hasn't gotten much business since the war took off," George elaborated, ripping open the next envelope.

"There's still a big demand for our Defense Against the Dark Arts lines though. We're actually making more money than ever on mail orders alone." Despite his words, Fred didn't seem very pleased. Both twins clearly missed their shop in Diagon Alley and Harry couldn't blame them. There were countless good memories he could associate with the Burrow but this wouldn't be one of them.

"_Harry."_

Harry looked over his shoulder immediately after hearing his name called from the vicinity of the staircase. Tonks was there and motioning him in her direction. As Harry stood, the twins went back to the business of sorting letters. "Try to talk Mum into going to bed if you can," George whispered.

"We tried to convince her that we'd watch him for a while, but she doesn't trust us." Fred faced the table again.

"I wouldn't trust us much either, but she might listen to you." George leaned his head into his hand and continued scribbling along the product names on his clipboard. Harry received something of a nasty shock as he realized that even Fred and George were beginning to feel the effects of this war. Given how quiet it was presently, they should have been disrupting the peace. At the moment, they didn't even seem to be in good spirits, much less in any mood to draw the rest of the house into their usual antics. Suddenly, Harry was very hesitant to see any other occupants of the Burrow right now.

Harry crossed the room, and went to Tonks. The sound of the stairs creaking slightly under his steps was louder than ever before though not louder than the pounding of his own heart. "How is he?" he asked before he had even reached her. The look on Tonks' face told him that he wouldn't receive the worst of responses, but he wasn't about to hear anything especially pleasant either.

"Remus said he's awake but in a rotten mood." Tonks moved back onto the second floor landing as Harry reached her. The look of surprise on his face was apparent.

"He's awake?" Harry felt his breathing ease slightly. The fact that he was still conscious was a good sign, wasn't it? Tonks could have exaggerated the severity of the situation earlier. Even if it wasn't likely, it was something to hope for.

Tonks led the way to a door Harry recognized as leading into Percy's old bedroom. "Make sure to close the door behind you. The room was sound proofed for a reason Harry."

Harry put his hand on the door handle then looked back to Tonks slightly alarmed. "You aren't coming in?"

"Oh no." Nymphadora shook her head and hands to emphasize this fact. "I have to get back to my own camp. So I'll see you around, Harry."

With a nod, he wished her a safe goodbye and opened the door. The reason for a sound proofed room was all too evident. The greeting he was met with on the other side was a glass shattering just to the right of his head. Harry hastily shoved the door back and leaned against it until it clicked shut. It was barely in place when he heard a familiar voice. "Get out!" The room was much too dark for Harry to see anything. The only light came from two wands on opposite sides of the room. It struck Harry as odd that not even a lamp was lit right now.

"Oh, not again." Mrs. Weasley's voice was not without hints of exasperation as the short, plump woman made her way from the bed to Harry. "For Merlin's sake. I'm surprised the window's held up as long as it has – _Repairo – _Honestly…oh Harry, dear."

Lifting his eyes from the sight of the glass on the floor fusing itself back together, he looked to the shadowed face of Mrs. Weasley. Even in this darkness, he could see how exaggerated the lines on her face seemed all of a sudden. The twins were right. She did need rest, though it would undoubtedly take a great deal of effort to convince her of that. "Tonks brought me here. I can-" He was interrupted by a flurry of rather vulgar exclamations from the bed. He could see the shape of a person there, squirming slightly in apparent disgust. It seemed Malfoy wasn't pleased with his arrival.

"I know dear. Nymphadora already told us to expect you." Molly replaced the glass on the nightstand as she went back to the bed.

Harry looked to the other lit wand to see who 'us' was. He was marginally pleased to see Lupin sitting in a ratty looking wing-back chair a few steps away. The remains of a lamp were on the table beside him, and Harry noticed immediately that he looked even more weary than Mrs. Weasley. "Do you want me to fix that?" he asked, unsure of what else there was to be said. It seemed his help wasn't as urgently needed as he had assumed.

Lupin only shook his head. "Thank you Harry, but there's no use in that. It has already been fixed four times."

"And counting," Mrs. Weasley added, stifling a yawn as she took a seat in a chair near the headboard.

Harry noted that Draco wasn't complaining anymore. Malfoy never had "nothing" to say. Even if it wasn't potentially deadly, there was indeed something very wrong with him if he didn't even have the energy to protest any further regarding Harry's presence. "If either of you want to rest I'll stay with him for a little while."

It was evident that Mrs. Weasley was about to object, but Lupin beat her to a response, "We aren't helping him, Molly. I'm sure Harry would be far more useful right now than either of us are. We could both use the rest."

For a moment it seemed Mrs. Weasley would still object. It was in her nature to be motherly to any youth that came to be stranded at the Burrow. She had been as much to Harry though he sincerely doubted Malfoy neither needed nor wanted any such thing. "You need to get back to your troops don't you?" Mrs. Weasley frowned and stood reluctantly. "All right, but you know where my bedroom is and Remus is just on the next floor."

Lupin stood as well, going to the door and lowering his voice once next to Harry "Try not to let him bother you. He just feels threatened here. I'm sure you would too if you were in his situation."

Harry wasn't quite so sure of that, but nodded in agreement. This seemed to be enough for both Lupin and Mrs. Weasley, who gave him a hug before leaving the room after his former teacher. As the door clicked shut again, Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he turned to face the bed. Drawing closer, he saw that Malfoy was facing the wall, as far away from Harry and the rest of the room as he could manage. This was more awkward than he could have imagined. For once, he didn't feel as if he had the right defend himself against anything Draco might have to say.

Wordlessly, Harry crossed the room, nearly running into the chair Mrs. Weasley had been seated in. He pulled the chair a little further away from the bed before taking a seat in it. "Do you mind if I turn on a lamp?"

"Yes," Malfoy said shortly, much to Harry's frustration. It was going to be a long night. "I hope you don't hover over me like Weasley's mother. That cow was nothing but a nuisance."

Harry could physically feel his sympathy for Draco lessening. "And here I thought you were a hostage. I think you're the last person who should be complaining about accommodations."

Draco snorted but didn't turn to face him. "That's right… I forgot you were the sort who would stay at a dump like this by choice."

It took a bit of effort for Harry to force himself to hold his tongue. "You're no in any shape to start something, Malfoy," he pointed out irritably, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms over his chest.

To his disappointment, Malfoy didn't seem discouraged. "You said it yourself, I'm a 'hostage'…If anyone is going to do anything to me it won't be you and it definitely won't be so soon." Even in a situation like this, his tone was nasty and condescending. Harry could have throttled him and really wasn't seeing any reason not to. Malfoy sounded tired and he couldn't see him well in this light but he was certainly still himself. Harry felt foolish for having ever been worried.

"I**'**m sure they're also under the impression you're injured," Harry grumbled, watching Draco's back gloomily. He was wearing a pair of pajamas Harry assumed must have belonged to one of the Weasley boys at one time. "Wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"If I'm all right then leave. I didn't want that cow around, I didn't want that idiot teacher around, and I still wanted their company more than yours. Get out, Potter." Malfoy's threats were empty. He was without his wand or either of his goons. The only damage he could do right now was verbal. Still, if he didn't want Harry's help, who was he to press his presence on him?

"Just shut it, Malfoy." Harry already wanted to leave but knew he couldn't, "I said I would baby-sit you and now I'm stuck here. Neither of us have a choice in the matter." Even in the dark, he could tell that this was angering him effectively now. He looked as if he wanted to get up but thought better of it. Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the shadows. He was sure his curse had hit Malfoy. What if he really was hurt? Harry wanted to see the wounds for himself, even if Malfoy wouldn't allow him a light. He stood as quietly as he could and leaned over the bed, doing his best not to make any noise. He could make out Malfoy's outline better by the slivers of glowing moonlight that made it from between the shutters of the window. He could tell that the other was curled up on his side. His blonde head was bowed down against the pillow, his hand and wrist against the side of his face so that it was obscured from Harry.

Unfortunately, he had barely shifted his weight to the edge of the mattress when Malfoy realized what was going on. "Get out!" He repeated only more urgent and panicked. Harry jumped back as the glass Mrs. Weasley had placed on the nightstand shattered once more. He gave a startled yelp as one of the shards grazed his cheek and stumbled back from the bed, crossing half the room in the process.

Harry put a hand to the side of his face. It took him a moment to catch his breath but when he did manage it. He was in a mood to rival Draco's. "Fine," he snapped, backing up the rest of the way to the door now. "I just hope they get you out of here soon. You're nothing but trouble to everyone here and I'm sure you can't wait to get home either. You're probably missing quality time with Voldemort already." Harry wasn't willing to give Draco the last word; though, he was sure he must have had something prepared. Instead, Harry opened the door and stepped out, closing it back in the matter of a moment.

Allowing his hand to linger on the door handle a little longer, Harry took another deep breath. He pressed his forehead to the door's cool surface for a moment, trying to sort this out. Going to get Lupin or Mrs. Weasley was out of the question though they would undoubtedly be angry with him for not staying the night with Malfoy. Was there any alternative other than going back in? Harry did have his pride to keep in tact, but there was also his word and going back on it at a time like this would only be an act of selfishness.

Then again, he had counted on Malfoy being unconscious. A wide-awake Draco was an entirely different responsibility and one he wasn't sure he could stomach sitting through. He should probably go downstairs to cool off before he thought this through any further.

Harry pulled himself away from the door only to have his heart leap into his throat as a hand gripped his shoulder. With a gasp he spun around, hand leaping to the wand in his pocket. He relaxed visibly when he realized that the person beside him in this cramped hallway was only Lupin. This relief was quickly dissipated as he realized he had just been caught abandoning the "post" he had only minutes ago offered to take. Quickly, he tried to sort out his words. "I was just going downstairs for a few minutes. I was going to come back." He wasn't sure if that was true, but he certainly hadn't decided against it just yet.

There was no need to make excuses however, Lupin didn't seem angry. In fact he looked as if he had expected this, as if he had been waiting here in the hallway for Harry all along. He nodded to Harry's wand hand before drawing his own wand. _"Lumos."_ he said meaningfully. In the dull light, Lupin seemed to be smiling though he turned too quickly for Harry to be able to tell much else. There was definitely something different about him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. As the lit wand rose up the staircase, he was left alone with only these thoughts.

Harry looked to his own wand then back to the door. His mind worked the two over for a moment and he drew his wand before he could change his mind. _"Lumos,"_ Harry said quietly, opening the door once more, quietly this time. He made a point to close it back just as carefully, and watch his step as he moved back towards the bed. Malfoy was there as he had left him. He was still curled up on his side and seemingly oblivious to how close Harry was at the moment, even with his wand lit.

Silently, the young Gryffindor braced one hand against the wall as he leaned over the boy on the mattress. Beneath Draco's hand and stray wisps of white-blonde hair, Harry thought he could make out bandages. He would have to be closer though, and Malfoy would likely have to know he was here. It made sense that if he was going to alert the other to his presence, that he might as well catch him off his guard, and right now Draco was most certainly not paying his surroundings much attention.

Harry shifted his grip on his wand and used this same hand to grab Malfoy's shoulder, forcing the very startled youth onto his back. "Wh-" This was more of a startled exclamation than any sort of question. His free arm had gone immediately over his face in defense but Harry was practically on top of him now. Pinning down Draco's free arm was easier than he could have imagined with this sort of advantage. Just the same, Harry was thankful there was nothing left to break nearby. Though Malfoy was without a wand Harry could certainly feel just how powerful the negative emotions running through him right now were. With no outlet for similar energy, Harry had had his fair share of "magical accidents" around the Dursleys. Ignoring the possibility of more formidable hazards than exploding glasses, Harry forced Draco flat onto his back.

The light near the pillow was enough to make out details now. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the hazy dimness of the room, but he knew immediately that he had not been mistaken about the bandages. He felt his breath catch as he noticed the way they ran across Malfoy's face, covering both eyes completely. In the few moments Harry sat there startled, his grip on Draco's wrists also eased. The blonde beneath him didn't waste the opportunity.

As Malfoy pulled his arms away, he jerked to one side and out from under Harry. He made a mistake in attempting to get up, however. Unprepared for the pain the move undoubtedly caused him, Draco let out a sharp cry, which startled Harry enough to bring him completely to his senses. There was another short struggle as Harry forced the other back down. He readied his wand again, prepared to use some sort of spell to restrain him. Tonks' mention of the defensive magics surrounding Draco came to mind and he immediately thought better attempting anything magical. Harry resorted to using the bedsheets: tying the corners to Malfoy's wrists and sequentially the structure of the headboard.

It didn't surprise Harry that Malfoy hadn't the energy to fight, but it did worry him that the other seemed to have nothing to say in retaliation. Drawing the light from his wand closer he began to understand why Tonks had stressed the urgency of the situation. While Draco's features had always been sharp they seemed sharper now and his skin paler. Hesitantly, he raised his free hand to Malfoy's collar, unfastening the buttons there. When it seemed that the former Slytherin was still out of sorts, he continued.

The first thing Harry noticed, as he brought his wand closer for inspection, were more bandages. Though disgusted, he had used the spell three times and certainly wasn't surprised. The bandages seemed to be made of cloth. He supposed the Weasleys had no reason to use bandages for any extended period of time. Other than being a little bloodstained they seemed clean. There was one set running at a slant across his neck then down to his shoulder. The last of the gauze was the longest still, extending from his right shoulder to his left hip. Everyone here had done their best to dress the wounds despite their obvious lack of experience with the task.

The very next thing to catch Harry's attention was how thin Malfoy was now. Towards the end of their sixth year, Harry had noticed that Draco had looked sickly and had been losing weight. He had never stopped to think that the stress on Malfoy then must have been nothing compared to what he must have gone through this summer. It would take some convincing for Harry to believe that Malfoy was tough enough to be comfortable living amongst Death Eaters.

It didn't take long at all for Harry to succumb to curiosity. As he reached forward Malfoy began to stir, evidently able to come to his senses now. He still wasn't well enough to really protest though, only managing to pull futilely against his restraints and slur a few angry "Stops". It went without saying that Harry ignored him and began to unwrap the bandages at the other's neck first. Harry would have liked to believe that he was genuinely concerned for Draco and not merely fulfilling a morbid impulse to survey his own handiwork.

Harry had used _Sectumsempra _before, but hadthe subsequent wounds always been this deep? Lying these bandages aside he began to pull away the ones over Draco's chest. He could number Malfoy's ribs beneath his fingertips and it made him feel queasy. The sight of the gashes that would soon scar, did nothing to ease this. He ran his fingers the length of the wound, across the other's gaunt form and to a sharp hip at his opposite side. Following his own touch with the light from the wand he noticed the slight redness of the injury itself. This, paired with the unusual warmth of Malfoy's skin made him nervous. "You're running a fever. These are probably infected." He sat the other bandages aside and waited patiently for Draco to piece together a response. This took a little longer than Harry would have anticipated.

"Your hands are just cold…Get off me…" It seemed Malfoy was trying to make his tone sound at least marginally threatening. His voice only sounded hoarse and he didn't even bother to struggle this time. "Go mind your own business, Potter."

"I can't. Neither of us is happy about this, so just be quiet, Malfoy," Harry said halfheartedly, brushing Draco's hair back and pressing the back of his hand to the other's forehead. "And you are too running a fever."

Malfoy leaned away from Harry's touch irritably. "No, I'm not," he muttered almost inaudibly as if to make sure he got the last word in. After a moment's silence, it seemed curiosity had gotten the best of him as well "How bad is it?"

Harry, who had been debating over whether to try his hand at cleaning the wound or to simply replace the bandages, looked up now. "I'm not really sure. I'm pretty sure it's going to scar though." He was about to go on but hearing a groan from Malfoy realized that was probably all he had been interested in knowing. "How do you feel?" Harry asked instead. He knew how awkward it must have sounded.

It came as no surprise that Malfoy didn't give him the most amiable of responses. "Like I'm the hostage of incompetent fools." Even injured he could manage a his usual drawl "Damnit, Potter, did you tie my hands?"

"It took you long enough to notice," Harry muttered, standing and scanning the room. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, a sink perhaps. In the darkness he could make out three different doors, one of which led into the hall. He was sure the second was a closet of sorts, but the third? Harry stood and crossed the room.

Malfoy must have felt the shifting of weight on the mattress. He sat up as best he could, seemingly troubled by Harry walking away. "Hey…wh-where are you going? At least untie me first!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry assured him desmisively, opening the door to a decent sized bathroom. It was nothing spectacular, a sink, a toilet, and a claw-foot tub. Even so, he was pleasantly surprised. He even noticed a folded, tattered sheet on the counter. The bandages must have come from that. "I didn't know Percy had his own bathroom."

"What does that have to do with anything? Get back here and untie me!" Harry heard a few hollow thuds as Malfoy shook the bedposts in his frustration. "How did you…Why are you so good at this…?"

"Whatever you think Malfoy…that's exactly why I am." Harry sighed, going back to the bed. He was almost relieved to see a familiar smirk on Draco's face again as he worked out the most vulgar of possibilities in his mind.

"Well that's bloody terrible. Does the media know about this yet?"

Harry rolled his eyes though, overall, he was thankful Malfoy couldn't see him at the moment. Whether that had been meant as an insult or not, he had cracked a smile. "Only the tabloids." He leaned over Draco again, this time to untie him. "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," Malfoy said incredulously. Harry was sure he was lying. A moment ago, he had hurt himself simply trying to get up, but he was sure he would get plenty of grief if he didn't at least let him try. "Where?"

"Just across the room," Harry kept an eye on the gashes across Draco's neck and chest as he began to prop himself up. "Those have to be cleaned or they'll get infected."

"And you know what you're doing?" Malfoy didn't give Harry a chance to answer. Sitting up did prove to be a bit too painful. Even Harry winced as he saw more blood, specifically around Draco's shoulder and stomach. As he dropped back down to the mattress Harry wrapped one arm beneath his back, draping the other over Malfoy just as carefully. "What are you doing now?" he sneered once again, doing his part to make the task at hand all the more difficult.

"I think you're sharp enough to figure that out." Unsurprisingly, Harry found Malfoy very easy to support, though certainly not from lack of trying "Stay still." Harry moved the arm he had situated over Malfoy beneath his legs now. The entire situation was unbelievably uncomfortable. Everything about this seemed so wrong.

"You just have to be the hero, don't you?" Draco didn't seem to notice as Harry gave his wand a slight swish, lighting the unbroken lamp in the bathroom.

Harry didn't answer him. He looked to the floor once the small room was completely lit. Much like the rest of Percy's room it seemed to have undergone regular, meticulous cleaning. He supposed any surface in here was as sanitary as the next and promptly went to the sink. "Hermione would probably know more about this than I do." Harry sighed, running water and looking around for any sort of disinfectant, though, he already knew he wouldn't find any. He should have thought of bringing Hermione along earlier.

"Granger's still alive then?" Malfoy made sure to stress the disappointment in his tone and Harry cringed. Things had almost been tolerable between them for a moment there. "She looked out of place in the fighting. I assumed she would have gotten herself killed by now."

"No," Harry said shortly, kneeling back down with a towel he laid down to keep the floor dry. "Both she and Ron are doing just fine. In fact, both of them are doing much better than you right now." That kept Malfoy quiet long enough for Harry to slip his shirt off and reach up to wet a clean washcloth. "I'm pretty sure this is already infected." Harry said again, sounding more confident now that they were in better light.

Predictably, Draco knew little about medicine and even less about Muggle "infections." He certainly didn't seem to like the sound of the word.. "And what does that mean?"

"It means you should be begging Hermione to help you. I'm sure she's read a book on the subject, which is more than I can say for anyone else here." Harry held the washcloth over Draco's neck so that the water fell into the wound, irrigating it. Malfoy winced, unprepared, but really seemed more angry than anything else.

"And what if I don't?" He asked between trying to mask obvious cringing.

Harry wet the washcloth again. "Well. serious infections can be fatal." He noticed Draco pale a bit further and smiled. This was one way to convince him to do something he was adamantly against. "So you won't mind if I bring her here tomorrow then?" He took Draco's silence as a 'yes'. "Wonderful." Harry continued to run water over the remaining gashes in silence.

Once finished, Harry put the cloth aside and reached for the tattered sheet to make a few more bandages. He was pleased to find that there were more than enough prepared to dress the wounds again. Harry re-bandaged the wounds as best he could. It was a little sloppy, but effective. Malfoy seemed to be trying to keep a brave face, but Harry knew that he must be in pain. He was only surprised that the other wasn't taking every opportunity he had to complain. "There," Harry tied off the last bandage and sat back.

"It's about time," Malfoy pulled himself forward a bit and away from the wall only to be pushed right back to it once more. "What now?"

Harry had assumed it was obvious. "I'm not finished," he admonished, reaching out for the bandages around Draco's eyes.

No sooner had his fingers settled on the knot in back did Malfoy pull away. "Don't do that."

"I'm nearly finished." Harry began to unwrap the bandages and was met only with further protests.

"Damnit, Potter, that hurts!" Draco's tone had become more urgent. "Stop it!" It wasn't as if Draco hadn't protested before now. Harry only ignored him and soon found that the bandaging was thicker over his eyes. Malfoy truly did seem to be in pain, but surely, he was merely overreacting. How much more could this really hurt compared to the other wounds? He only got a momentary glance at what was left of Draco's eyes as he peeled back the cloth completely. The shattering of a nearby lamp made sure of this. A moment was all he had needed to realize that Draco was blind.

It took him another few moments in the darkness to realize that Draco was now unconscious again. There was no need to wonder why. The gash there had been the first of Harry's to connect. It was also the deepest and, upon first glance, inconceivably more painful than the others. Harry had taken in little detail, but even the knowledge that the gash had run deep and ragged through Draco's eyes made him gag.

Covering his mouth with the back of his arm, he edged away. After a short bout of coughing, he managed to draw in a few shaky breaths and swallow back his nausea. What had he done? What had Draco done to deserve this other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time? This was all because of a misunderstanding. This was all because Harry had made a hasty assumption. This was all his fault.

"_L-Lumos,"_ Harry took another deep breath and steadied his wand hand. _"Lumos." _Light came, hazy and flickering, from the tip of his wand. He made a point to avert his eyes as best he could as he tied the bandage back into place around Malfoy's eyes. With that out of the way, he took great care in pulling Draco back into his arms. The room was quiet now but, aside from Malfoy's unsteady breathing, this only made Harry all the more nervous. For once, he would have given anything to have Draco to say something rude or harsh. At least that would have been easier on his conscience.

Harry took a step away from the bed after laying Draco down. He was sitting down when a thought suddenly occurred to him. There was something more he needed to know; though, Harry was doubtful that he could handle any more truths in the same night. He leaned over Malfoy once more, taking the other's wrist into his hands. Reluctantly he unbuttoned the cuff and rolled down Draco's sleeve. The same nausea rose up in Harry. This time, however, he was both prepared and completely unsuprised.

Harry pushed Draco's sleeve back over the Dark Mark. His motions were distant and detached as he fastened the cuff again then pulled back, taking a seat in the chair nearest the bed.

"_Nox."_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Harry couldn't recall the last time the night had been quite so long. Sitting there in the darkness, he could see little more than then what was illuminated by the moonlight creeping in between the slats of the blinds. Every so often, he would notice Malfoy stir or hear his breathing become more irregular. Harry found himself leaning forward regularly to put the back of his hand to Draco's forehead and to the side of his face. Harry wished he had a thermometer, though he was confident Malfoy's fever was rising steadily. He really wasn't sure how he was supposed to lower it, or if he should even wake Draco up to try. It was probably best just to let him sleep for now. His temperature wasn't particularly serious yet; they would have time to deal with this later if the problem escalated.

It would never have occurred to Harry that at some point in his life he would be sitting wide-awake and worried at the bedside of his rival. It had yet to actually strike him that Malfoy could indeed die in the wake of the injuries he had inflicted. This thought had only occurred to Harry in passing, but not as a possible outcome of his stay at the Burrow. Even then, it had only been to convince Draco to tolerate Hermione's imminent arrival.

An hour or two before daybreak, Mrs. Weasley came into the room. She offered to relieve Harry but he refused, insisting that he wasn't truly tried. In actuality, he was exhausted. On the other hand, he wasn't sleepy in the least and doubted that he would be able to get any sleep for another few hours. He must have appeared alert enough in the light of Mrs. Weasley's wand to convince her. She fussed over Draco's bandages for a minute or two before finally leaving the room.

Mrs. Weasley returned an hour or so later, this time carrying a decent sized tray. "I thought I would bring you this before the rest of the house wakes up. I'm sure that will be soon, so keep the door closed. They're a noisy lot."

"Thanks." Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley set the tray down on the bedside table and lowered her wand to seek out one of the broken lamps "Do you think it would be all right if Hermione came? I think she would be would know more than any of us about…something like this."

One of the lamps began to piece itself back together, clinking dully in the darkness. "That sounds like a marvelous idea, Harry." Mrs. Weasley seemed to be considering the likelihood of her son arriving home with Hermione. "I'll probably have to run it by the Ministry, but this is my house. I can't think of any reason why they would refuse."

Harry managed a smile of thanks just as the now lit lamp was placed near the breakfast tray. "Do you think his parents will come for him soon?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Of course. Arthur and I would if he were one of our boys. Any decent parent would and I might not have many good things to say about the Malfoys, but they don't seem like bad parents."

In Harry's opinion, any parent who would associate with the Death Eaters was a "bad parent", but he didn't argue that point, instead moving on to another, "And what if they don't come, or if they can't? Even if they do cooperate and tell the Ministry everything they know, won't Voldemort kill all three of them?"

Harry saw Mrs. Weasley cringe. He was sure this was geared more towards the notion of someone under her care being murdered than to the name of the murderer itself. "I'm sure they'll be put under the protection of the Ministry," Mrs. Weasley insisted. She seemed terribly sure of herself; Harry was confident she would have her say in this. "I have to go back downstairs before there's complete chaos, but I'll see what I can do about getting Hermione here." She frowned, looking Draco over one last time before drawing back and going to the door. "Try to get him to eat something if you can and if you get tired, come and get me. All right?" Harry nodded.

After the door had closed, Harry moved closer to the tray she had placed on the nightstand. He took a piece of toast for himself though he didn't have much of an appetite. He was still picking around the center of the bread when Malfoy stirred. Harry watched him thoughtfully, unsure if he was actually waking or merely tossing in his sleep again. It was difficult to tell with Malfoy's eyes bandaged as they were, but a groping hand was proof enough that Draco was awake and disoriented. One hand met the wall, the other felt the unfamiliar bed linens beneath his fingers.

Harry assumed it would be wisest not to point out Malfoy's forgetfulness; everything would come back to him in a few short moments. "How are you feeling?"

Malfoy gave a slight start but seemed to relax, realizing where he was. He shrank back to the bed, appearing disappointed. "I'm fine," he said in the most annoyed tone he could manage. This was a bit difficult as his voice was scratchy and hoarse upon waking. "Why are you still here?"

"Everyone else is busy," Harry had resolved not to let Malfoy get to him this time. "Are you hungry? Mrs. Weasley brought up breakfast."

"I don't want any." Malfoy only sounded petulant now.

Harry hadn't forgotten how stubborn he could be. "You need to eat something. At least have a piece of toast."

"Not here. For all I know it's poisoned." Malfoy's right hand had moved to the bandages over his eyes, as if to make sure they were in place.

"You're our hostage, remember?" Harry rolled his eyes "What good would you be dead? Here-" Harry took a couple of pillows from the side of the mattress and leaned them against the headboard. "Sit up." Harry did more of the work than Malfoy did, lifting the other up and against the pillows. Draco didn't seem particularly thankful, but as he was already sitting up now, decided to act as if it had been his idea. Taking the tray, Harry carefully climbed onto the bed and sat down next to Draco. He took a piece of toast, already spread with marmalade, and broke it in half. "If they poisoned you, then they're poisoning me too." He nudged Draco's hand, passing him his half.

Malfoy seemed to consider his options after hearing Harry take a small bite. "I want your half," he insisted, holding out his hand on his own accord this time.

Harry rolled his eyes. He considered saying something clever but decided against it. "Fine." Before he could trade, Draco pulled his hand away.

"You already took a bite. At least break off that portion, Potter. You handling my food is disgusting enough."

This time, Harry considered licking the back of the toast but again, his better judgment was there to dissuade him. "All right." He broke off the end of the toast rather carelessly, making it as loud as possible "There. Now will you take it?"

Unable to see what was happening, Malfoy really had no choice but to trust Harry. As they traded breakfasts, Harry knew that, normally, he would be drawing amusement from the situation and he could tell that Draco knew this as well. Malfoy was doing his best to act as if nothing was different now. He took the toast grudgingly and leaned back against the pillows, picking idly around the corners. "So how long am I supposed to be here?"

This was it. Harry had been dreading this imminent conversation. Surely the subject of how he came to be stranded here in the first place was close at hand. "I'm not sure. I don't think they're going to move you to the Ministry in your condition, if that's what you think."

"What is it that they want?" Draco managed to tear off another bit of toast without dropping any crumbs on the bed. "What am I being held hostage _for?_"

Harry had assumed that question had already been answered or simply needn't be. "Information, most likely. Anything that will help the Ministry find Vol-" He saw Draco flinch and caught himself. Now wasn't the time to upset Malfoy. "-You-Know-Who."

"And who is going to give them this 'information'?" Draco pressed, mocking excessive interest in the answer.

Harry should have guessed that Malfoy would make this difficult. "Your parents. I'm sure they've noticed that their only son is missing by now. Even they-" Harry fell silent as Malfoy began to laugh without warning. The sound was cruel and mirthless, and sent a painful sort of chill down Harry's spine. "What did I say?"

It took a moment for Malfoy to cease his laughing. When he managed to do so, he finished his toast before speaking again, though not to answer Harry's question, "What will they do with me if no one comes?"

The concept of no one coming for Malfoy left Harry feeling uneasy. "I don't know," he lied. "But your parents will come, so what does it even matter?" When he received no further response, Harry was only too eager to change the subject before it took an even more unpleasant turn. "Do you want something else? There are some fried eggs here too."

Malfoy shook his head. "I'm really not hungry."

Draco hadn't snapped at Harry this time. He merely seemed to be tired. Assuming he really was running a fever, Harry wasn't surprised that he had no appetite "At least drink something then. I think it's orange juice." If there was one thing Harry _did_ remember, it was that Malfoy needed liquids. He seemed to remember that juice was best…or was it water? When Draco nodded in approval he decided he would worry about that later. "Hermione might not be here until tomorrow." Harry made sure that Malfoy had a good grip on the glass before he sat back again.

"I'm sure that Weasel _boyfriend_ of hers will be tagging along." There was a moment of silence between the two of them as Draco took a drink from the glass that had been offered to him.

At least his anger wasn't aimed entirely upon his rival, though Harry wasn't sure if this was a particularly good thing. "Ron. Probably, yeah…You're trying to stay on her good side though, remember. Don't begin to patronize her the minute she walks through the door."

"What do you mean by that?" Draco brought the glass to his lips once more only to nearly choke on what he had just swallowed. "You mean Weaselbee _isn't _her boyfriend?"

Harry couldn't help but smile; Malfoy sounded genuinely shocked. "No, he isn't," Harry said shortly, reaching for his own juice. He was pleased to find that he hadn't been wrong about it being orange juice when he took a sip.

It looked as if it was going to take a bit of convincing to make Draco accept that he had been incorrect. "But they…"

Harry took Malfoy's glass once he was finished. "Yeah, but we just don't talk about it."

"The lot of you are idiots. You know that, right?" Malfoy leaned back casually against the headboard but Harry was sure he noticed something more there in his mannerisms.

After a short observation of the other, Harry sat his glass aside and leaned forward, putting his hand on Draco's cheek. Malfoy jerked away at first. It seemed he had a few choice words on the subject, but Harry moved a hand to Draco's brow regardless and spoke before he had a chance to reply. "You're burning up now. You can't tell me you don't have a fever."

"Get your hands off me, Potter!" Malfoy shoved him away rather weakly, but Harry caught his wrists.

Harry put one of Malfoy's hands to his cheek and positioned the other so Draco could feel how warm he was in comparison. Whether it was the shock of realizing that Harry was right or the embarrassment of the predicament, Malfoy shut up. Harry took the opportunity to remove several pillows so the still silent boy beside him was lying down once more. "Now do you believe me?

It didn't take long for Malfoy to recover from his initial surprise. Now he merely turned on his side and shrugged. "So? What does proving your point change? What can I do about it?"

Affronted and tired, Harry was almost finished trying to be kind. "Nothing I guess. I'm just trying to help. You don't have to be such a-"

"You're only doing this because you know something. They're going to kill me aren't they? If no one comes they're going to kill me." The sudden distress in Draco's voice troubled Harry.

This situation was reminding Harry of when he stumbled across Malfoy crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He was caught completely off guard and not at all sure how to handle it. There was no use lying to him. Malfoy was a jerk, not an idiot. "They would give you a trial," Harry said at last. "They don't just kill people whenever it suits them."

"Of course they do!" Malfoy shouted into his pillow. "If they're not above taking hostages, they already have approval to kill them too."

Harry hadn't thought about the situation like that. He shook his head, growing more annoyed. "Stop it, Malfoy. Your mother wouldn't even let you shop by yourself. I'm sure she's in fits as we speak."

Malfoy forced himself back into a sitting position and grabbed Harry's arm forcefully. "Shut your mouth, Potter. You don't know anything any about my family."

Harry was surprised but not deterred. "You're telling me that I'm wrong? Your parents hate you now, is that it? They wouldn't come for you because their only child isn't worth the time?"

The grip on Harry's arm tightened almost painfully. "Of course they would come! They'd make sure you and your Muggle-loving friends regretted keeping me here in the first place!"

Harry pried Draco's hand away, shoving him back without thinking. "You're a spoiled brat, Malfoy. Don't even try to make me believe otherwise."

"I suppose this is a sensitive subject for you," Draco smirked, propping himself back up on the mattress. "Your parents did a rather sloppy job of protecting you, didn't they?"

Harry's better judgement took a courteous step aside, and he struck Malfoy without a second thought. It was only when the other cried out in pain and put both hands to his face that Harry came to his senses. "Damnit."

Harry moved forward and pulled Draco none too gently closer, situating the blonde so that he was partially resting across his lap. "You had better pray your parents come soon. I might just kill you myself otherwise," he grumbled, supporting Draco's head with one hand and unbandaging the wound over his eyes with the other. He could tell the wound was bleeding once more without even completely unwrapping it. Blood was mostly on the left side, where the back of Harry's hand had connected. This time, Harry couldn't find it in himself to be quite so sympathetic.

Luckily, his apathy came in useful; it was a bit easier to look at Draco's eyes now. Harry dabbed some of the blood at one temple away and noticed that this wound was only looking worse. It was likely his other injuries looked similar, if not worse. He really didn't want to do anything more until Hermione was there, though. For all he knew at this point, he was only making things worse. Draco certainly hadn't gotten any better since he had been here; a few moments ago had been an excellent example of that.

He wondered if Malfoy was even still conscious. "Hey, Malfoy?" A groan told him that Draco was still awake, if not just a little bitter. He rebandaged the wound a bit more lightly this time. "How's that?" There was still little more than a groan from Malfoy in the way of a response. Harry sighed and laid Malfoy back on the mattress. He climbed off the bed and took a seat back in the chair he had spent the previous night in.

It was difficult to approximate the passage of time. There was no clock in the room and it would be light out for quite a while. Harry didn't know how long it was before Malfoy spoke to him again, but he knew he had chosen the exact moment before he was about to fall asleep.

"Potter?"

"What?" Harry grunted in response, opening one eye lazily. Malfoy didn't answer, so Harry sat forward. "What?" He repeated before realizing that the blonde seemed to be shivering. Harry was on his feet and leaning over Malfoy before he even realized he had. Once there, he was at a loss regarding what to do next. For once he wished he had been able to spend more time with Dudley in front of the television. At least maybe then he would know what was happening. From the tail end of the programs he _had_ caught, the protagonists always handled similar situations a lot faster than this seemed to be progressing.

Malfoy was still lying as Harry had left him, though he now seemed restless, "I'm blind, aren't I?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but took the blankets from the end of the bed and pulled them over Draco. He tried not to allow them to lie too heavily on his wounds, though he was uneasy about trying to keep the other warm when he was probably still running a very high fever, "Being blind is that last thing that you need to worry about, Malfoy."

"How am I supposed to…" Draco put a hand to the bandages over his eyes. "What am I going to…"

Harry felt useless and Malfoy was still shivering. He supposed he could lie to him or he could try to comfort him. That thought was ridiculous. What was he even doing here? He was trying to save the life of a Malfoy. What's more, this was _Draco_ Malfoy. Anyone in this house was better suited for this task than he was.

Harry jumped as the blonde beneath him gave a strangled sort of cry. Now wasn't the time to hold a grudge. Swallowing back his pride, Harry climbed back onto the mattress. "That doesn't matter right now. Just relax or you're going to make yourself sick," Harry told Draco as he pulled the boy against him, able to wrap the blankets around him completely from that angle.

"Don't touch me, Potter," Draco gasped though Harry ignored the protest and it seemed the Slytherin in his arms forgot about it a moment later himself. "I'm going to die," he groaned, obviously in a lot of pain.

This was all chipping away at Harry's nerves. He was very annoyed with Draco and yet terrified at the same time. "Shut up, Malfoy," he snapped though he wasn't sure if the other heard him. "You're not dying so just shut up about it." Harry held Draco closer and wrapped his arms around him. He could still feel Draco shivering beneath the blankets, but he thought it seemed to be subsiding, albeit slowly. This might have been Harry's imagination of course but he decided to believe it.

"See? You're fine." When there was no response, Harry moved a hand to where Draco's head rested on his shoulder. "Malfoy?" He could feel the Slytherin's breath against the side of his neck, and although it was an awkward situation, Harry was relieved to feel the steady rhythm of the other's breathing. "Malfoy?"

When Draco still didn't stir, Harry gently lowered the other back to the bed. This was all getting out of hand. Harry put his hand to Malfoy's forehead; he had stopped shivering, but he now felt warmer than ever. How long would this sort of cycle continue? Unsure of what else to do, he removed the blankets only to feel his next breath stop short in his throat. The white cloth bandages he had tied the night before were already beginning to stain red. It didn't occur to Harry that no one else in this house would be of much good with muggle medical care either; he only knew he didn't want to deal with this situation alone.

Stumbling off the bed, he rushed across the room and to the door only to have it narrowly miss him as it opened. "Harry?" Hermione asked as she stood in the doorway, Mrs. Weasley just behind her with two or three other witches. Neither needed any response from Harry as another sharp cry from the vicinity of the bed seemed to tip them off well enough. Harry was buffeted out of the way by both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley only to be shoved directly out the door by the remaining witches making their way inside as well.

It all happened very quickly and rather roughly. Harry tripped out into the hallway, over the slight rise in the floor to the next room, and onto the floor. He managed to get himself into a sitting position against the adjacent banister just as the door slammed loudly and clicked, undoubtedly to keep anyone else out. All Harry could do for the next few minutes was stare at the door and attempt to hear anything that might be happening on the other side. After a little while longer, he realized that this was useless; Tonks had told him the room was sound proofed only the previous night.

"Poor thing looks exhausted," said a rather mocking voice.

Harry looked up as someone gripped his arm. One of the Weasley twins smiled down at him from where they knelt at his side.

"Come on Harry, we'll take you downstairs. Ron's there too." Another set of hands gripped Harry's free arm.

"Up we go then." Both twins half lifted Harry to his feet and led him jovially down the stairs.

Harry welcomed Fred and George's old manner and he was sure the rest of the Burrow was benefiting from it as well. Seeing Ron seated comfortably by the fireplace reminded him of his years spent in the Gryffindor common room. Even his hectic years at Hogwarts had been intoxicatingly pleasant compared to the harsh reality of the real world.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The downstairs of the Burrow was much less crowded and yet twice as loud. Despite the atmosphere Harry had faced upstairs on the first floor, the mood was pleasant and relaxed. It didn't particularly surprise Harry with all the carnage everyone here had already seen, what was the death of a boy who wasn't even one of their own? Predictably, Ron's mood seemed unaffected. Upon seeing Harry, he only smiled and moved over to make room for him, as did the twins. Each seat was already occupied by their elders, who appeared to be conversing quite cheerfully under the present circumstances.

"You can't just disappear in the middle of the night. At least leave a note next time." Ron managed a frown, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

"Oh come off it, Ron." Fred and George released Harry's arms once they were both in front of the fireplace. Harry took a seat across from Ron.

"We all know you were worried. Now let it go," George finished shortly as both he and Fred sat as well.

Ron rolled his eyes but didn't object. Harry assumed he wouldn't bring it up again, at least not for another hour or two. "Sorry, Ron," he said distractedly. His mind was still focused on the upstairs and the subject of Malfoy. Harry couldn't help but wonder what time it actually was. Downstairs all the windows were shut, so he imagined it would look like night regardless of the hour.

"So how long do we have to stay here?" Ron changed the subject. He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. It had been a long while since Harry had seen him so relaxed.

Harry shook his head. "Not sure. As long as they need me…or Hermione anyway…"

Ron snorted disdainfully, looking into the fire and keeping his arms over his chest. "We're just wasting time. We should-" He was cut off as a throw pillow scored a direct hit to the side of his face.

"What did we just tell you?" George scolded.

Fred mimed an overly-dramatic sigh and shook his head. "Sorry, Harry, we thought we'd trained him better than this."

Fred and George seemed to have gathered a new stack of letters that hadn't dwindled at all since the previous night. If anything, there were even more letters. They didn't seem particularly distracted right now though. Ron hurled the pillow back and George sent it flying halfway across the room with a flick of his wand. There were several shrieks of surprise but Ron only looked back to the fire sulkily.

"Honestly." George smirked. "You're only miffed because it's that Malfoy prat upstairs."

Fred nodded. "And your girlfriend with him."

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron said immediately though his face was already quite red. "But we still don't have any reason to be here…" He added the last bit under his breath. Harry knew he disliked Malfoy immensely, probably more than he did. Draco had always taken a special joy in tormenting the Weasleys, who couldn't have been any more different from the Malfoy family. He imagined Fred and George weren't particularly fond of him either, but they seemed to be fairly indifferent about his being here.

Currently, Harry wasn't confident of his own opinion. He wasn't sure how he should feel right now, nor did he have the energy to care. Leaning back against the wall, Harry barely noticed that his eyes were closing.

"Just don't say anything like that around Mum. She's glad you're home." Fred's voice was stern.

George shuffled the letters as he looked to Ron again. "She's got enough to worry about right now and you upsetting her with talk like that won't help anyone."

"I won't say anything," Ron grumbled. "But if _he _does anything to-"

"_He's _not going anywhere any time soon." Fred had lowered his voice, noticing that Harry was close to dozing off.

"So if you stay at your end of the house and he stays in Percy's bedroom there shouldn't be a problem." George stifled a yawn of his own and held up his free hand to silence Ron as he began to talk back.

"There _shouldn't_ be a problem. Besides, the Ministry is coming for him in a couple of days, dead or alive," Fred finished. "Here, you can help us with these."

Harry saw the stack of letters being pushed closer to Ron just as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open any longer. He slumped further back against the wall as he finally dozed off.

_Harry woke to the sensation of a cool breeze on his cheek and opened his eyes to the night sky. There were stars above and a full moon hanging low in the sky. He could feel sparse grass beneath his hands and uneven ground on his back. Harry wondered when he had gone outside. He couldn't distinguish any familiar sounds in the darkness, which struck him as odd. The noises he could pick out were out of place, like the creaking of hinges and a sort of soft shuffling._

_Puzzled, Harry propped himself up. He was in a field; it took him a moment to realize he had been here before. The ground was still charred and bloodstained from use in battle, the trees bordering the field swayed slightly in the breeze but seemed devoid of any wildlife. Harry looked to his left for the source of the noise and his eyes immediately settled upon a wardrobe._

_The wardrobe was situated beside an oversized grave. From the angle Harry was looking, he could see just how precariously it stood at its edge. The doors were open and Harry could hear someone on the other side of the door nearest him. He could see nothing of this "someone" however. What he did see was the large wolf from his previous dream, sitting just beyond the double doors._

_The wolf seemed to be waiting patiently for who or whatever stood before him, a gold chain hanging from his mouth. On the end of this chain dangled what looked to Harry, like a locket, and one he had seen before at that. The sight of the wolf didn't inspire Harry to move any closer to the wardrobe. If it was even possible, the creature looked larger than it had when last he had seen it. _

_After what seemed like hours, the something behind the doors took a step back. It wiped its hands upon Hogwarts school robes as if they had just been loading something up into the wardrobe, before tugging at the bandages over its eyes. Harry watched, still terribly confused as the wolf nudged Draco Malfoy's hand. Malfoy moved his hand along the wolf's muzzle in response, accepting the locket from its now open jaws. He slipped this into his pocket, and then wiped his hands again, closing the wardrobe doors._

_Harry took this opportunity to stand and saw both the wolf and Draco freeze. The wolf's ears twitched and he stood as well, facing Harry and eyeing him suspiciously. Harry felt the words die in his throat twice before he managed to draw his own gaze away from the animal watching him. "Malfoy?" he croaked at last, taking a hesitant step forward._

_The wolf let out a low growl and Malfoy was even quicker to react. He flung the doors to the wardrobe back open and stepped inside, slamming them shut again. With Draco gone, the wolf retreated, leaping down into the grave._

_Harry rushed forward, ignoring the grave altogether. He opened the doors to the wardrobe clumsily, his fingers fumbling with the handle at least twice. Once opened, he was able to see clearly what was inside. There was nothing in the wardrobe. There was no "one", there was no "thing", and there was certainly no Malfoy._

_Harry put his hand to the wooden back of the wardrobe to make sure there was nothing he had missed. His fingertips only met wood and he could see from where he stood that there was no alternate way out other than the doors Harry had opened. With a disappointed sigh, Harry stepped back to close the cabinet doors. They had barely shut at all when he felt hands on his shoulder again. The grip was firm and unyielding. "Let go!" Harry jerked free and _straight up from the floor, sending the blanket that had covered him tumbling to his lap.

It had been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Harry had assumed that to begin with but why was he having these dreams? It wasn't unheard of. Harry had these sort of dreams from time to time but never two nights in a row. He hoped this wasn't the beginning of a new trend.

"What's your problem?" Ron yawned, sitting up from where he had been sleeping across from the fireplace. He too had a blanket and it seemed he had been asleep until just a moment ago.

Harry looked around the house. There were at least six other witches and wizards asleep nearby, but none of them had stirred. "Sorry, nightmare I guess," Harry said shortly, feeling around nearby for his glasses once he realized how blurry the world was.

Ron beat him to it, grabbing Harry's glasses off an end table. He stopped short of handing these over though. "Have you been crying?"

"Huh?" Harry put the back of one hand over his eyes and was surprised when he found himself wiping away dried tears "My eyes must be watering. Just give me my glasses," he said dismissively, claiming his glasses from Ron and putting them on before continuing, "Why aren't you sleeping in your bedroom?"

Ron groaned and Harry noticed he had been attempting to lie down once more, likely in hopes of getting a little more sleep. He sat up again grudgingly. "Well, you fell asleep down here. Besides, Hermione asked me to stay down here in case she needed my help with the door."

"Hermione?" Harry couldn't keep the worry from his voice "Did she…I mean is Malfoy…"

The question seemed to strike Ron as odd but he only shrugged. "She's been in and out several times with some of Mum's friends. Out of the house that is. I haven't seen them come back since they left last."

Harry could only assume this meant Hemione knew of the proper muggle medicines, or at least where she could find books that gave attainable alternatives. "So you haven't heard anything else, then?"

"I haven't asked about anything else." Ron admitted, pulling his pillow into his lap and leaning his elbows on it as he waited impatiently for Harry to finish.

There were no real excuses Harry could make as to why he was actually worried about a Malfoy. He could tell that this was bothering Ron though. Luckily, he didn't get the opportunity to attempt any sort of confrontation. The door swung open at the tap of a wand. Harry saw Hermione round Lupin. The latter of the two even appeared a little angry. As their friend passed them by, clutching a bag to her chest as she mounted the stairs, Ron stood. Harry followed suit but, unlike the Weasley now bolting up the staircase, stood his ground until Lupin was close enough to address in a whisper.

"Sir," Harry began as a witch passed both of them by to follow Ron and Hermione up the stairs. "What's going on?"

Lupin stopped as Harry caught his arm. He looked back impatiently and shook his head. "Let's not talk down here." With a hasty wave of his wand, Remus closed the door and made his way to the second floor.

Upon reaching the second landing, Harry saw that Ron had stopped Hermione at the door. She was missing the bag from before however, so Harry gathered that Ron had actually made an effort to get her out of the bedroom. They seemed to be in a quiet, albeit heated discussion but spotting their former teacher drawing near, both fell silent. It didn't help Harry's nerves much that Hermione appeared particularly upset. Her face was flushed with emotion, evidently having found a major difference of opinion between herself and Ron.

Everything seemed rushed and awkward. Harry stopped in front of his friends, standing shoulder to shoulder with Remus. "Hermione." Hermione distanced herself from Ron, moving closer to Harry so that he could lower his voice. "Is he all right?"

It took Hermione far too long to respond. She opened her mouth to say something then glanced to Lupin as he drew something out from an inside coat pocket. It was a paper; one Harry guessed was the Daily Prophet. "I think we're wasting our time here, Harry," she said at last as Harry accepted the paper from Remus.

Harry hadn't seen a Daily Prophet in ages. What he held now seemed to only be the front section; the picture beneath the bold print of the newspaper heading took up a good deal of the page. There was a large mansion in the background of the picture, which seemed to have been taken from some distance away. It looked like a parameter had been marked off. There were members of the Magical Law Enforcement squad posted every few feet and at least two that were having a stern conversation with whoever had taken the picture Harry was looking at now.

Ignoring the picture for a moment, Harry scanned down, reading the article.

**Once Influential Family Meets Violent End**

Confirmed Death Eaters, Lucius and wife Narcissa, Malfoy

were discovered dead at their home in Wiltshire late last night.

Lucius Malfoy, who escaped from Azkaban with

the majority of the other inmates earlier this year, was reportedly

a victim of the Killing Curse. Authorities refuse to comment

on Mrs. Malfoy, though they verify that both have been deceased for

more than two weeks.

The Ministry stresses that this was undoubtedly the work

of more followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Named and that

after the initial investigation, further action need not be taken.

While the Ministry was not willing to give a further statement,

the officials on duty were equally unconcerned.

The Malfoy's only child, Draco Malfoy, could not be found

for questioning, though it is believed that he is also deceased.

Regardless, the Ministry will wait a year or until the next

of kin steps forward, before selling the mansion at auction

as per regulation. Before our reporters left the scene,

Rufus Scrimgeour_…(cont. page 2 column 1)_

Harry really needn't read any further. He handed the paper back to Lupin after reading it, thoroughly shaken. "So…no one's coming for him after all?" Malfoy had hinted this fact to him while they were alone, but he'd merely shaken it off as selfish whining.

"Scrimgeour will be arriving in a couple of days to take him off our hands," Lupin said with a nod. "After that is anyone's guess."

"Someone else will come for him," Hermione said. Her voice was resolute, as if she had already argued this point, yet shaky, as if she had lost the same argument. "What about Pr-" Hermione was tired and nervous. Harry saw her eyes dart to him momentarily before going on, "Snape? Malfoy was his favorite student at Hogwarts.You don't think there's a chance he would come for him?"

Harry felt anger well up, constricting his chest, at the mere mention of that name. He couldn't believe that the coward would be worried about anyone aside from himself. Harry even had a few choice words to say on the subject before Lupin beat him to it. "Regardless of what the Daily Prophet says, the Death Eater's know Malfoy is here. If Voldemort wanted anyone to come for the boy, he would have him by now. No, the only ones who might have gone against his wishes were Draco's parents and…well…"

Ron stifled a yawn that didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. After a quick jab in the ribs, his mood only worsened. "What? We _really_ can't wait around for Scrimgeour."

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to say something about his insensitivity, but Harry shook his head. "He's right. We have to leave before that. What will the Ministry do with him?" He directed this question towards Lupin.

"It's anyone's guess," Remus admitted. "Azkaban is out of the question and St. Mungos is far too busy. Scrimgeour would never allow them to waste their time with this. He'll most likely make a point to alert the media, let them know that they _did _find the youngest Malfoy and what extraordinary expertise it took. They'll blow any connections he did have to the Death Eaters completely out of proportion, do anything they can to get information he doesn't know, then kill him as an example. Scrimgeour doesn't want to show weakness to the Death Eaters. What better way to prove his point than to make an example out of a kid?"

"That's ridiculous," Hermione insisted. "No one will let…someone will protest…"

"And risk getting arrested themselves? If anyone _does_ actually care – which they won't since the Ministry will almost certainly use the media in their favor – but if they did, they would be too afraid to step forward. Scrimgeour's tactics are heartless, but unfortunately, he has reason enough behind them to win over anyone even remotely influential in the Wizarding community." Harry noticed Hermione's resolve fall at Lupin's words. "Even our side is corrupt, the lesser of two evils, but completely corrupt."

Before anything else could be argued, the door to the bedroom opened and the remaining witches, the ones that had entered with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, trudged out. They fanned apart, moving up and down the staircase to their respective rooms. Harry made a move for the door as it was closing, only to have Hermione catch his arm. "We did all we could. Mrs. Weasley is sitting with him for now. The most we can do is get some rest."

"I just woke up," Harry said dismissively, but Lupin and Ron were on Hermione's side as well.

"Yeah, you just woke up in the middle of the night. Do what you want in the morning, but for now let's just go to bed," Ron groaned.

"Just wait until morning. By then, Molly will need a break." Lupin handed the paper to Hermione. "I need to be going now before anyone realizes I'm gone." He took a step towards the stairs "Give Molly and the others my best."

Harry was taking the paper from Hermione, studying the picture beneath the headline where the photographer was being impatiently motioned to move further back. By the time Harry looked up, Lupin was gone. "Wait." He assumed Lupin hadn't gone far, but received no response, Harry only sighed and went to the staircase. "So he just came here to bring us the paper?"

Ron groaned. "Does it really matter? He came, now he's gone." He yawned once more. "Now let's go back to sleep. Mum said my room was still free and that Hermione could stay in Ginny's room."

There was an awkward silence between the three, then a nod or two in agreement. Harry followed Ron and Hermione upstairs, wishing a good night to the latter at the third landing. In Ron's room, a camp bed was set out in the corner. Harry slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed. Ron didn't bother to change his clothes either, and Harry could swear that he was asleep before he was even down on the mattress. It took significantly longer for Harry to do the same. He laid in the darkness for what seemed like hours, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the activity of the ghoul in the attic above.

If all Lupin had said was true, was it really in Malfoy's best interest if he survived? It wasn't as if Malfoy was underage. The Ministry wouldn't take it easy on him and it was entirely his fault. With this thought in mind, it was still some time before Harry managed to get any sleep at all. The next morning, he would be relieved to realize that he had slept through the remainder of the night without any further dreams. This was likely due to the fact that he had little time to sleep before being woken.

The sun was barely in the sky when words began to insinuate themselves between nothingness and Harry's subconscious, "_Veocrux…variation…willing sacrifice…life…Conticrux…intertwined…the group will…should be noted that…Recrux-" _ Harry groaned, though it wasn't quite loud enough to alert anyone in the room. He could hear the same voice he had heard while sleeping, but it was much clearer now.

"-more reliable than using a Pensieve as only one person may access the memories. However, there are usually side effects such as particularly brutal nightmares in which physical harm may be caused to the second party."

"Hermione?" The girl was curled up against a mound of pillows at the end of Ron's bed and looked up. There was a book laid out in her lap. Harry suspected it was one of the books she had taken from Lupin's camp. Ron was still asleep, his pillow half folded over his head. He would probably remain asleep until one of them made something of an effort to rouse him.

"Sorry, Harry. I didn't realize I was reading out loud," Hermione said apologetically, rising from Ron's bed and going to Harry's. She looked as stressed as Harry had been feeling, though he would hazard to guess that it was the way this year was progressing that was upsetting her. Regardless, they could both learn a lesson or two from Ron who was still snoring somewhere under the blankets and pillows. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Harry lied, glancing to the window. The sun was up already, but only just so. "You? Wait, what are you doing in here?"

"There were already people staying in Ginny's room; I didn't get much sleep. Usually, I read when I can't sleep but everyone else was still asleep. I couldn't very well turn on a light with everyone sleeping." Hermione hugged the book she had been reading from to her chest and leaned back against the wall. "I assumed there would be a lamp in Ron's room, and I was confident a little light wouldn't wake _him_ up."

Harry managed a weak smile and nodded, climbing out of bed. "You were right. I'm going to go downstairs and see if breakfast is ready. Do you want anything?"

"I'll wait for Ron," Hermione opened the book in her lap again. She thought nothing of it as Harry left the bedroom and headed downstairs. Of course, Harry had no intention of going to the kitchen. He might have had Hermione asked for something, but with no interference he went back to the second floor and opened the door to Percy's bedroom quietly. He was relieved to find that it was unlocked.

A glance to the bed told him that no one had heard. Mrs. Weasley was seated in the chair beside Draco's bed, her head propped up against her hand. She seemed to be asleep, as did Malfoy, who was curled up on his side once more. It was difficult to gauge his condition from here, but Harry thought it best to alert the others of his arrival just in case. "Mrs. Weasely?"

"She's asleep, you idiot. Close the door," someone whispered from the bed, and it took Harry a moment to realize it had been Malfoy. Why the other was actually making an effort to whisper was beyond him.

Harry closed the door and went to the bed, "You look better," he commented, suddenly feeling awkward again. Though still much too pale and thin, Draco didn't look as if he might die in the next ten minutes, which was something of a relief at first. "How do you feel?"

"Like no one will leave me alone," Draco grumbled. "If it's your turn to bother me now at least make _her_ leave."

That probably wasn't such a bad idea, at least Harry could see no harm in it. If Mrs. Weasley went to an actual bed she would likely get much better rest. "Mrs. Weasley?" Harry shook her shoulder gently though it gave her something of a start. "Sorry," he said apologetically, watching Mrs. Weasley look about confused for a moment or two before she came to sorts.

" I didn't realize I'd dozed off." Mrs. Weasley stood, putting a hand over her mouth as she yawned. As she looked to the window, she noticed that it must be light out. "Oh, I wonder if Arthur's home. You can handle things here, right, Harry?" she asked, looking Malfoy over, assuming he was asleep, and heading for the door.

"Of course." Harry knew the Ministry must have been working Arthur overtime lately, so naturally she would be eager to see if he was finally home.

"So what has the 'Chosen One' been up to this year without Hogwarts to worship him?" Malfoy asked conversationally. At least, Harry decided to take it as such. Draco's tone had been sarcastic, but Harry assumed he was bored enough by now to actually want an answer. What was the harm in talking to him now? It wasn't as if he was going to take any secrets back to the Death Eaters.

This time it really wasn't in him to defend himself and made a point to keep his answers civil. "Hermione, Ron, and I – we've been busy looking for…" Harry hesitated but it seemed Malfoy already knew what he was about to say.

"Horcruxes." If Draco had been able to roll his eyes, that probably would have been his response. "As if you have any chance of finding them all."

"Two have been destroyed," Harry said in his own defense. "That leaves four and we already know what the third looks like."

"Then what is it?" Malfoy asked casually, stretching out on his back to better hear Harry.

Again, Harry hesitated. "A locket," he said at last, "one that belonged to Voldemort's mother." He saw Malfoy shudder slightly at the name but chose to ignore it. "We thought we'd found it but-"

"We?"

That was something of a sensitive subject for Harry. "Dumbledore…What we found was a fake."

It took a moment for Malfoy to respond as well. Dumbledore didn't stir up the best memories in him either. "What do you mean, a fake?"

"Someone had already taken the real Horcrux. The one we found only had a letter inside."

Malfoy waited for Harry to continue. "Well you're a horrid story teller, Potter. What did the letter _say?_"

"Nothing that makes any sense to anyone. Only that he took it knowing he would be killed very soon. That he intended to destroy it when he got the chance. It was signed R.A.B. but none of us can figure out wh-"

"Regulus Black," Malfoy said dismissively, waving Harry along. "Is that all it said?"

Harry stared at Draco in disbelief. "Who?"

"R.A.B., Regulus Avery Black, right?" When he was met with silence, Malfoy elaborated, "He was on the family tree in father's study." Still silence. "Hell, Potter, he was your dead godfather's younger brother!"

"I know who he is!" Harry snapped back before he could catch himself. "I just…didn't think of that…" Part of him wished Draco hadn't figured this out first. Of course, he had only ever heard of Regulus offhandedly from conversations. Surely it probably would only have been a matter of time before he had figured it out himself.

Malfoy smiled smugly. The tone in Harry's voice had betrayed how surprised he had been. "Of course you didn't think of that, Potter. You always were slow on the uptake."

"Maybe so," Harry said calmly, storing the name in the back of his mind and moving on. "But you just helped me. A lot. The last time I checked Vol-…You-Know-Who frowned upon that."

Draco's smile fell and he seemed to pale even more. "It doesn't matter," he muttered at last. "I doubt I'll be seeing him again anyway…or anything else for that matter."

That had put a damper on the mood, not that it had been especially cheerful to begin with. Harry was unsure of what to say again; he couldn't make empty promises of Draco's parents coming for him. They both knew that was untrue now. "You sound like you're feeling better at least."

Malfoy shrugged. "What does it matter? The Ministry will be here to change that any day now, right?"

Harry wished, desperately, that Lupin hadn't brought him that paper. He wished he could still lie to Draco without feeling guilty. "Yeah."

Draco tilted his head slightly in Harry's direction, as if curious. "So you gave up on giving me that nonsense of my parent's coming for me, hmm?"

Of all the things Harry could have said at this moment, he only managed an uneasy, awkward apology. "I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"No, you're not." The boy on the bed moved back onto his side, his back to Harry again. "Besides, that's in the past now. There's not a whole lot anyone can do about it."

Harry thought he had heard Draco's voice waver slightly. "You could have said something."

"Oh, well you'll have to forgive me if it isn't my favorite topic at the moment." If it had been possible, Malfoy was in an even worse mood now. "How did you find out anyway?"

Harry debated on whether to lie this time or not, perhaps he could say that Arthur mentioned it, but that wasn't much better than the truth. "It was in the paper."

Malfoy tensed. "What did they do with them?"

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "It didn't really say."

"I suppose I can ask Scrimgeour himself, right?" It didn't sound as if he was really waiting for an answer. "Unless he sends someone else. He might think I'm not even worth his time. He has a lot to do after all."

Malfoy sounded angry but something about the way he had worded his opinion bothered Harry. "You'll be all r-"

"Don't!" Harry jumped at the outburst. Malfoy was tense again "Don't say I'll be all right, because we both know I won't! We both know they're going to kill me!"

Harry fell silent. He could hear Malfoy crying from here, though he was doing his best to hide the fact. It wasn't particularly surprising; Harry would expect anyone to cry in this sort of situation. Even so, the sound of Draco sobbing was not something he could, nor wanted, to get used to. "Malfoy-" Harry leaned forward, putting a hand to the other's shoulder only to have Draco jerk away from his touch.

"Get…get away from me Potter…" Malfoy struggled to make himself still sound threatening, but his voice lacked the strength to be effectively intimidating. Not that Harry had ever found Malfoy that intimidating. He pulled back just the same. He couldn't do much else right now but sit and wait for him to finish. Harry felt out of place but he was sure it was nothing compared to how Malfoy must feel. Not only was he distraught, he also appeared thoroughly humiliated. "Just get out…"

Both of them knew Harry couldn't leave. For half an hour, Harry had little choice but to sit there, completely useless, listening to Draco cry. At one point he folded his arms on the mattress and laid his head down. He wondered what he would do when they did take Malfoy away. He wondered if he would be able to handle that kind of guilt. The guilt was so distracting now that he didn't even notice when Draco finally did cease his crying. "Potter?"

Harry glanced up wordlessly, watching as Malfoy moved onto his opposite side. It was difficult to tell that he had been crying at all with the bandages over his eyes as they were. "Potter?" He called again, pausing to listen closely for any sort of response. Harry was about to respond when Malfoy reached out cautiously. He suddenly seemed worried, nervous that he was actually alone. Harry imagined he would be just as frightened if he couldn't see his surroundings either.

Draco's fingertips grazed Harry's sleeve and Malfoy quickly jerked his hand back. When he didn't' hear Harry move, however, he shifted a little closer and lowered his voice, "Potter?" Harry watched Malfoy relax when he didn't answer and realized that the other must have assumed he was asleep. It was probably for the best. It wasn't as if they were much good to one another conversationally, so Harry made a point not to move much. He focused his eyes on nothing in particular and allowed his mind to drift. He was contemplating getting a bit more sleep when he felt a hand against his own.

Harry looked to Malfoy, who seemed to have purposely positioned his hand so that he was touching his rival's wrist. It was hardly noticeable; if Harry hadn't been watching, he would have assumed it had been an accident. Without being able to see anyone in the room, maybe he was just trying to keep track of where Harry was or perhaps it was just the added security of knowing anyone was here. Whatever the truth might have been, Harry had just made up his mind.

Draco had been asleep, or at least seemingly so, when a visibly upset Mrs. Weasley had offered to take over for the time being. Harry didn't argue. Upon hearing that Ron and Hermione were in the garden, he set off in that direction. He found the two seated in the grass. Hermione had put her book aside for now and seemed to be in a much better mood than when Harry had found her in this morning. He almost regretted interrupting them. "Hey guys."

Both looked up and moved apart slightly to include Harry should he choose to sit as well. The outside of the Burrow looked no different than it ever had; there was no way to tell from here that inside things were very different indeed. "And where have you been all day?" Ron asked, with a slight air of annoyance.

"With Malfoy," Harry said honestly, taking a seat so that they could speak quietly.

"Oh, _him_," Ron groaned. "Mum's right pissed with the Ministry. Not sure dad should have told her."

"_Ron._" Hermione elbowed him roughly but Harry only ignored the both of them.

"I think Ron's right."

Hermione gave Harry an expression he had seen her give him every time he had failed a test. "What?" she asked incredulously. Ron, on the other hand, couldn't have appeared happier.

"I think Ron's right. I think we should leave tonight."

Hermione only seemed angrier. "You just want to avoid the Ministry."

"Right," Harry nodded. He took Hermione's frustrated looks patiently. "We'll leave before they get here."

"Well, I completely agree with you Harry. That's the best ide-"

"Shut it, Ron." Hermione looked as if she could have given Harry a thrashing. "You should stay, if for no other reason than to give Mrs. Weasley some support. She doesn't need to be the only one watching after Malfoy."

Harry looked over his shoulder then back to Hermione, his voice dropping lower still. "She won't be."

"Huh?" Ron sounded as confused as Hermione looked.

Harry's tone was resolute and final. He had thought this over for some time and the more he mulled it over, the more he realized that it was really the only solution open to him. "She won't be left alone with Malfoy, because we're bringing him with us."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The night air was so cold, it was nearly painful to the touch. The wind had picked up sometime that afternoon and it was now much too difficult to stand still, much less fly a broom. As Harry watched his breath crystallize, he began to doubt his plan would work. Surely, someone would catch them. He glanced to Ron, who was shivering and eyeing Harry's wristwatch impatiently. "What time is it now?"

Harry groaned and thrust out his arm. "Thirty seconds since you last asked. Eleven-fifty-eight."

Ron snorted in disgust and threw his head back once more, eyes fixed upon Percy's bedroom window. "What if she's late?" he asked, without looking at Harry.

"Then she's late." Harry nearly seethed his response. The cold weather wasn't bringing out the best of moods in either of them. "We just have to wait." He shifted his Firebolt idly to his other hand, before craning his neck back to view the night sky. A solitary snowflake fell onto a lens of his glasses and melted away. "That's wonderful," he grumbled sarcastically, getting impatient now as well.

"Did you hear that?" Ron looked around, startling Harry out of his train of thought.

"Hear what?" Harry scanned their surroundings but saw only the dark outline of trees against more darkness.

Ron fidgeted nervously with his own broom. He seemed puzzled when he didn't see anything, but hadn't the time to verbalize this as the window above squeaked open. Ron only shrugged, dismissing the earlier noise entirely.

Harry gave the surroundings a quick, final once over and kicked off the ground, mounting his broom almost simultaneously. He rose until he was level with the window and looked in to find Hermione kneeling on the bed at the sill. "I couldn't wake him up," she whispered. "I think it's the painkillers. He'll be out for a while, especially since he's probably not used to medicine like that."

"It's probably for the best," Harry muttered, looking past Hermione to the blonde fast asleep on the bed.

Hermione didn't seem quite so sure. "You don't think he'll have a problem with you doing this? I mean, did you even ask him if this was all right?"

The answer to that question struck Harry as obvious. "You think he would rather stay here and wait for the Ministry?"

"Well, no," Hermione glanced back to Malfoy. "But I don't think he's going to appreciate waking up in a strange place with…_us_."

She had a point, but it was a little late for that now; they didn't exactly have the time to ask Draco. "Hermione-"

"Fine." Hermione leaned over Malfoy, pulling him closer so that Harry could reach him from the window. Harry leaned forward off his broom and wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him outside. Harry noted that the blonde was dressed in the clothes that he had arrived in, all save for the robes. Hermione had evidently thought those would be a bit too obvious. While Harry had to agree, it was also very cold. He could already feel Draco shivering as he maneuvered the other to sit just in front of him.

Ron rose up to the window as Harry pulled his broom back while keeping one arm around Malfoy. "Come on Hermione, what are you doing?" He looked up to see Ron groan as Hermione hung a satchel of books on the end of his broom before climbing out the window herself. "Hermione don't bring the gah-"

"Ron, honestly. You have to hold still or I can't get on!" Hermione was hanging back nervously on the windowsill as the weight of the books sent Ron tipping forward slightly.

"Just get on the back…and hurry." Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and jerked her forward. The bushy-haired girl gave out a squeal of surprise, wrapping her arms around Ron as she practically fell onto the broom. She wouldn't have fallen anywhere else. Ron had been holding onto her from the moment he had pulled her out but, regardless, Harry was confident he would regret his actions soon.

There wasn't time enough for Hermione to say anything particularly scathing as Harry hissed a quiet, "Come down here." At the edge of the woods he saw someone approaching slowly, as if they had heard something. Ron and Hermione froze just as Harry did. It was dark, but surely someone would see them if they were even remotely close enough.

Regardless of who it was, they were going to be in trouble. Harry took a deep breath as it suddenly struck him that these intruders might just be part of the Ministry. Lupin had said they would arrive today, but what he had failed to specify was the time. Harry pulled Malfoy closer without realizing it.

"Harry," Ron whispered. Harry only put a finger to his lips, eyes fixed on the silhouette coming ever closer. Luckily, a sudden chorus of soft popping sounds came from the woods and the figure below seemed to give up his investigation.

"It's about time." Harry could barely hear a male's voice, but he sounded annoyed. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Harry tugged the end of Ron's broomstick and dropped his own down into the cover of the garden. Harry ducked down with Malfoy just as Ron and Hermione landed, taking shelter behind the hydrangeas. From here, they could barely see the figures in the shadows; though, they could hear them just fine.

"It's freezing out here. What took you so long?" asked the "someone" who Harry had spied first.

When no response came from the silhouette closest to Harry, a nervous, squat shape and the others began to fidget. "Sir."

"It took me a moment to find Mr. Weasley here," said a familiar voice, stepping forward, flanked by a companion.

Harry glanced to Ron just in time to catch him mouthing a nonplussed _"Percy"_. This was the Ministry. Harry winced and then froze as Draco groaned. Malfoy couldn't wake up now! The cold seemed to be doing a fairly good job of stirring him though. Hermione and Ron looked back to Draco and Harry in horror as the three approaching seemed to be distracted as well. "Shh," Harry moved Draco closer, so that he was facing him now. He kept watching the three men from the Ministry as he pulled Malfoy against his own body and closed his open coat around the both of them.

"Did you hear that?" As Harry's eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could just make out Scrimgeour.

"I heard something in that direction earlier, Sir," said the first man, the one Harry still didn't recognize, as he fell into place beside Percy.

Hermione and Ron ducked lower and Harry pressed his back to the side of the house. Draco had fallen silent, apparently much more comfortable against the warmth of Harry's body. His hands had settled on Harry's chest and his face buried against the other boy's shoulder. Harry was too nervous to find the situation awkward. In fact, he held Malfoy closer to himself as Scrimgeour drew nearer. Harry had already made one terrible mistake in the last few days; he wasn't going to make another. He refused to give Draco up without a struggle. If he was even indirectly responsible for Malfoy's death he could never forgive himself. No one was worth that sort of guilt, especially not Draco.

It seemed as if, regardless of Harry's wishes, Scrimgeour would find them here. Would they take him into custody as well? Surely what Harry was attempting to do was a crime in some way, whether he had gotten caught or not. Perhaps that would be for the best, then at least some of his guilt over what he had done to Malfoy might be put to rest. He just hoped they wouldn't blame Hermione and Ron too.

"You shouldn't stay out here. It's not safe and, besides, it's much too cold to just be standing around."

Scrimgeour and his companions stopped and looked back to the bushes where Lupin seemed to be emerging. Harry wasn't quite sure how Lupin had managed to have such good timing, but he wasn't about to put it to question now.

"There's something there," the squat man Harry didn't know, pointed out.

"Gnomes, I'm sure." Lupin shook his head and walked past them to the front door. Harry thought he saw him glance in his direction as he climbed the front few steps.

Harry's attention was on Scrimgeour, however, and he held his breath as the elder man narrowed his eyes and peered one last time into the bushes. "Let's get inside then." Harry exhaled in relief as Scrimgeour, Percy, and his third companion withdrew, following Lupin inside.

No sooner had the door closed then Hermione rushed onto her feet. "Come on, Harry, hurry up," she hissed, climbing on behind Ron as he mounted his broom. Harry didn't bother to resituate Draco, merely keeping the other against him as he kicked off just behind the other two.

It was even colder up in the air than it had been below. Flying fast didn't exactly help matters either. The wind was painful against Harry's face, and he couldn't even feel his fingers as he tried to keep his grip on the broom. Draco's face was still against his shoulder and his body pressed close to Harry's own. Their predicament still wasn't quite awkward yet. If anything, he was keeping Harry from completely freezing in these harsh conditions. He pulled his coat further around the both of them before glancing to Ron. It seemed Hermione had thought to pack a blanket in her satchel of books. Ron was low on his broom and Hermione was leaning over him, or at least Harry assumed she was leaning over him. The blanket was spread over both of them but Hermione had practically disappeared beneath it. Harry couldn't quite blame her and if Ron noticed, he didn't think much of it either. Ron seemed to have more important matters on his mind.

Once they were a respectable distance away from the Burrow, Ron caught Harry's eyes and pulled closer. Harry saw Hermione shift beneath the thick wool blanket they were sharing, moving closer to Ron. "Where are we going!" Ron practically shouted over the wind.

Harry had been dreading this question. He didn't quite know the answer himself. "We'll talk about it once we land!"

Ron seemed put off by this answer. In fact, it hadn't really been an answer at all. "And when do we land!"

The shouting stirred Draco to some degree and he slipped his arms down around Harry's waist. If nothing else had taken Harry offguard, this did. He was thankful that the chill of the wind hid the fact that he was blushing. "Now!" He cleared his throat when his voice failed him on the first attempt. "Now! We can land now!"

Harry touched down first, choosing a small clearing where they could make a fire without fear of it spreading if they dozed off. He looked up to see how Ron was doing as he wriggled out of his coat, continuing to hold onto Malfoy simultaneously. Ron was dismounting. "Ah-" He didn't quite warn him in time as Hermione tumbled off the back of the broom once it was unbalanced. Hermione gave a short, pained, exclamation, and Ron looked back, equally startled. "You _were _asleep?"

It took a moment for Hermione to come to her senses. It took her another few moments to liberate herself from the blanket, which had chosen to tangle itself around her arms and legs. "I _was_!" Hermione snapped. "What if we had been in the air?"

Ron shrugged. "I would have caught you. I mean, I couldn't not notice if you fell off. There would have been a major weight difference with the way the broom handled-"

Harry covered his mouth with his free hand, trying to hide a grin. He knew Ron hadn't meant to offend Hermione, but her disgusted reaction didn't surprise him in the least.

"What?" Ron asked as he watched her snatch up her bag and stride off to the center of the clearing in an agitated manner. "What?" he called again then looked back to Harry with a shrug.

Harry finished draping his coat around Draco and motioned for Ron to bring him the blanket, since Hermione hadn't taken it with her. "We're a safe distance from the Burrow. We can spend the night here."

"Great." Ron handed the blanket to Harry and glanced to Malfoy. "This is ridiculous. We should have left him."

Harry kneeled down, lying Draco on the ground so that he could wrap the blanket over his own shoulders. He didn't want to get into this with Ron right now. "Ron-"

"Well, all of this with the Ministry is rubbish, yeah. Who knows what's gotten into that Scrimgeour idiot…but we could get into trouble for this too, Harry. I'm pretty sure this is against the law." Ron was keeping his voice low, though the wind down here was still loud enough to keep anything he said barely audible.

"It's a little late to go back now," Harry pointed out, wrapping the remainder of the blanket around Malfoy. He received an odd look from Ron. "Come on, I think Hermione's starting a fire. It's cold over here."

"But, Harry," Ron urged, watching as Harry picked Draco up a bit awkwardly in the cold and head towards Hermione. He kept close to Harry, keeping his voice down. "The Ministry likes you…Scrimgeour needs you anyway. You could work something out."

"Ron!" That was about all Harry could take. He shot his friend a meaningful glare. "If you want to go back, then go. But I'm not coming with you. I won't hold it against you, or Hermione if either of you decide to leave, but I'm not going anywhere…All right?" There was no response from Ron, so Harry assumed he had struck a nerve. He knew Ron wouldn't leave. Ron was his best friend. What he needed to keep in mind, however, was that though Ron wouldn't leave, that certainly didn't mean he had to enjoy sticking around. Luckily, the sudden manifestation of a fire a few yards away was excuse enough for distraction.

Harry carried Draco to the fire, lying him down several feet away from the flames. He was thankful that Malfoy had been unconscious through their escape, though he was still dreading explaining what was going on to him. Harry wondered how he would take it. He doubted that he would be receiving any thanks. It was doing no one any good to worry about this now, of course. He draped the blanket over Draco, before stepping closer to the fire. The heat radiating from it caused his still numb hands to tingle. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his face, glad to be able to feel his extremities again.

"I only packed two blankets," Hermione said from where she sat at an angle from Harry. She was unpacking several books to pull out a second blanket from the bottom of the bag. "So you and Ron will have to share."

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked, sitting down near the fire.

"Oh." Hermione frowned, spreading her arms and eyeing the length of the blanket. "Well, it's not big enough for three." She folded the material up again and looked around, only now realizing that both Ron and Harry seemed very interested in what she might have to say next. "Well, I'm not sharing a blanket with one of you!"

Harry hesitated a moment before pointing out what she seemed to be implying, "You'll sleep with Malfoy then?"

"What? No!" Hermione put a book in her lap and began to thumb through it furiously.

"But he's unconscious," Harry pointed out hopefully. He had been spending a bit too much time with Malfoy lately to fancy the thought of sharing a sleeping space with him as well.

"That's not the point!" Hermione slammed the book shut and looked from Ron to Harry then back to the cover in her lap.

"It's too cold for any of us to sleep out in the open, even with a fire," Ron insisted. Harry knew he didn't want to get stuck paired with Malfoy either.

Both Ron and Harry edged a bit closer to their friend, only making her more uncomfortable. "We should probably be getting some sleep soon."

Hermione stood, snatching her blanket and moved around to the opposite side of the fire. Ron and Harry watched her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't leave all three of them to the one blanket…would she? Though it was difficult to see her beyond the fire, Hermione finally spoke up. "Come on, Ron."

"Yes!" Ron cheered quietly, grinning and slapping Harry on the back. "Sorry, mate." He didn't sound terribly apologetic as he went around to join Hermione. From here, Harry could see both of them trying to sort out the sleeping situation and how to keep an adequate distance apart. Both seemed embarrassed, but at the same time, thankful they weren't in Harry's situation.

Harry groaned and went back over to Malfoy. It was still a bit cold beneath the blanket, though he did find himself infinitely more comfortable. Of course, there was a limit to how comfortable he could get with Draco Malfoy sleeping inches away. He laid there, feeling quite awkward until he finally managed to fall asleep. In fact it was hour later before the cold finally woke him.

The blankets and fire had kept him adequately warm until now, so when he woke shivering it left him terribly confused. It was a full minute before he realized that his blanket was missing. It was almost another full minute before he realized that not only was it missing, but it had been taken. Malfoy was gone. Harry looked around, startled. After sitting up, he took a better look around. His jacket had been tossed dangerously close to the fire and about ten feet from the magic controlled flames, a thin layer of snow had fallen. Shoeprints traveling away from the clearing told him Malfoy had not been very happy with the circumstances.

"Damnit," Harry cursed, grabbing his jacket. Draco could freeze out there! He looked to Ron and Hermione. He could faintly make out their comfortable, sleeping forms through the flames and hot ash between them. They were blissfully unaware of the current situation and Harry saw no reason to wake them. He didn't have the time to convince them that they _had_ to go after Malfoy, though it was painfully obvious that Draco either didn't feel the need to be or simply wished not to be saved. Pulling on his jacket, Harry hurdled in the direction in which the shoeprints were leading. They were faint but still couldn't be that old. The snow would have covered them had they not been recent.

The further away from the fire he got, the darker it became. Harry reached into his jacket pocket to remove his wand, only to realize that it was missing "That s-" He cut himself off. He needed to catch Malfoy offguard, especially if he had his wand at the moment.

Harry's search slowed drastically in the darkness. The moon was out, but there was little light through the canopy of the treetops over Harry's head. He wondered if Malfoy had ever learned how to Apparate. If that was the case, then this would most certainly be a lost cause. It might be more difficult without his own wand but Harry was sure it could be done. He was fifteen minutes into his search and half frozen before he heard anything out of the ordinary. Unless, that is, the typical wildlife had developed a very sudden and very colorful vocabulary of foul language even Harry wasn't familiar with.

Harry edged a little closer. Despite the darkness, it wasn't especially difficult to pick out Draco's white-blonde hair and pale skin in the moonlight. The blanket over his shoulders was partially caught in the wind. With the bandages over his eyes and his already gaunt form, there was something almost ethereal and unearthly about his appearance.

It seemed he was fumbling with something in mounting aggravation. Harry quickly realized this something to be his wand. Apparently, Malfoy had considered Apparation, but with someone else's wand and given his inexperience, it was likely quite difficult, if not impossible. Whatever the case, Draco was currently distracted, so Harry took this opportunity to make his move.

Unfortunately, 'Harry's move' involved noisily breaking a fallen limb within his first few steps. "Who's there?" Draco was facing Harry's direction warily. Perhaps, if Harry was quiet, Malfoy would dismiss the noise as a forest animal. It seemed he wasn't quite that naïve. "Potter?"

Harry still opted not to say anything on the off chance his presence might still be ignored. He didn't have much luck maintaining the illusion. Rather than take chances, Malfoy began to rush deeper into the woods. Though he had to feel for his way around, he was still quick and there was a good chance he could find somewhere to hide in the dark before Harry could get to him. "Malfoy, wait!" Draco had stopped for an instant and Harry didn't hesitate to close the short distance between them.

Malfoy held his ground, facing Harry now that he seemed to be certain of who it was approaching. "Don't come any closer!"

Harry ignored Draco's empty threat. What could Draco possibly do to him blind and with his own wand? When his feet slipped out from under him and the ground collapsed beneath his weight, Harry realized that Malfoy's threat had been a warning. Between them, a thin layer of ice had formed over a surprisingly deep forest stream.

Harry gasped in surprise, regrettably taking in a lungful of very cold water. He kicked down, relieved when his feet connected with the stream's floor. It wasn't terribly deep but still over his head. He grabbed out for something, anything as he surfaced. He only managed to grab another thin layer of ice. "Malfoy!" he gagged, coughing up some of the water he had swallowed. He could see his only hope of getting out of the water alive, standing where he had been before Harry had fallen in, motionless.

Before more ice broke off, Harry took in a quick breath of air. He let himself go under, prepared to kick off, hopefully closer to the shore, though it was more difficult to tell where exactly that was from down here. It was far too cold to allow him to think straight either. He kicked down and grabbed out for the shore, only getting a handful of ice again. He tried to pull himself up but the ice broke off and Harry went under once more. His initial adrenaline rush was fading and his energy along with it. It was all too clear that Malfoy wouldn't help him. What reason did he have to help someone he had spent his free time at school loathing?

Harry couldn't blame him, not really. Not helping him was the logical thing to do. Draco couldn't even see him to help him. A spell was out of the question and to get close enough to reach him meant there was a possibility he might fall in as well. Harry pushed off the stream floor one last time. He reached out one last time, but instead of ice, his fingertips grazed something with a much softer texture. He gripped whatever it was and pulled, throwing his other hand out as well. His glasses had fallen off in the water so everything was quite blurry. Regardless, it didn't take him long to realize that what he was holding onto was Malfoy's sleeve. This seemed to have helped Draco better locate him, because the other now had a firm hold on both his arms.

Harry kicked again, doing his best to climb out. Malfoy released Harry's left wrist wrapping his arm around his back instead. Draco edged back, only climbing to his knees once he was on solid ground. His strength seemed to be back though Harry wasn't quite sure how. Harry wasn't going to question it at the moment; he was far too relieved as he dropped to the ground to question much of anything. It was colder now that he was out of the water, if that was even possible. Harry had little time to catch his breath before he was shivering uncontrollably. He wanted to say something to Malfoy, but his teeth were chattering so badly, he couldn't manage so much as a syllable. This mattered little, however, as upon looking up Harry realized that Draco was missing. Surely, he hadn't just left him here. He wasn't sure he could stand up at the moment, much less find his way back to the fire where he had left Ron and Hermione.

Snow began to settle on Harry's face and in his hair. He was suddenly feeling very tired and very close to losing consciousness when he heard someone call his name. "Potter?" He opened his eyes slowly, looking up again though his eyes couldn't quite focus right now. The loss of his glasses, when paired with his fatigue, made everything far too blurry for the speaker to be discernable. "Potter, say something. If you don't say something I can't find you."

"Malfoy?" Harry squinted, puzzled. If it was Malfoy, he sounded worried. Maybe he was just imagining things. Harry decided it must have simply been the cold getting to him. Therefore, he was quite surprised when he was heaved up and to his feet.

"Damnit, Potter, I didn't fall in and I can't see! Stand up. I'm not going to carry you." Malfoy had wrapped one arm around Harry's waist, the other securing the arm he had slung over his shoulders. Harry managed to get his numb limbs working long enough to trudge into a small clearing. He was pleasantly surprised to see what looked like a very blurry fire. As soon as Malfoy released him, his legs gave out and he dropped rather heavily to the ground. At this point, Harry couldn't have cared less. He was wet and shivering, but at least Malfoy had the decency to drop him a short distance from a fire.

Harry had every intention of merely lying back and going to sleep right here. He was still quite tired and slightly disappointed when Malfoy restrained him. "What now?" he groaned.

"Your clothes are soaked," Draco pointed out and Harry realized, much to his alarm, that his shirt was being removed.

"What are you doing!" Harry heard his own voice crack slightly in alarm. He tried to pull away, but this really only gave Draco the momentum he needed to get the shirt over Harry's head and off. "You c-can't just strip me!"

Malfoy sat back once Harry was out of his reach, though he still seemed aware of what direction the other was in. "You stripped me," he muttered irritably. "Now, if you don't want me to do it myself, take off your pants."

"But-"

"It's not like I can see you!"

He had a point. Harry slipped off his trainers and removed his socks before unfastening his pants. They were clingy and somewhat sticky as he removed them. Once finished, he laid them out near the fire, leaving him sitting cold and almost completely naked in uncomfortably soggy boxer shorts. "O-okay, I d-d-did it," he said through chattering teeth. He could tell, even without his glasses, that Draco was shivering now as well, but didn't seem particularly comfortable with moving closer to the fire without being able to see it.

"You're undressed?" Malfoy sounded as if he was implying something more than that.

"Y-yes, now can I at least have the blanket?" Harry asked, eyeing the blanket in Draco's arms, hopefully.

"No…I mean are you completely undressed?" Malfoy asked again.

"Yes!" Harry was growing impatient. "I took off my jacket and shirt and pants and socks and shoes-"

"And-" Even Malfoy was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"No…" Harry gasped

"Don't make me ask again." Draco fidgeted with the blanket in his arms. "Just do it, Potter, and I'll give you the blanket."

Harry hesitated, but not for long. It was, afterall, very cold. "Fine." He placed the last of his clothing out by his fire. "Now give me the blanket!" Harry moved closer to Draco, snatching the blanket from him and throwing it over his shoulders. Despite the cold, in only moments he was feeling a lot warmer and drier. "So how did you know there was water there?" he asked at last.

Malfoy had edged a little closer to the fire, still shivering. "Well, unlike you, I was paying attention to where I was going. The ice was thicker a short way down, where it was shallower."

"Then you almost fell in too," Harry said grudgingly.

"But I didn't," Draco finished. He did have more reason to be careful than Harry did. Regardless of whether it was dark or light outside, Malfoy would have been careful to pay attention to where he was going. He might even have the advantage in conditions like these. In this case, Harry's eyesight really hadn't been much help.

"Are you cold?" The silence between them was becoming a little awkward and Draco's shivering had only worsened. Harry knew the answer was overly obvious but what was the harm in asking.

"Of course I'm cold," Malfoy said, shaking his head and holding his hands out slightly, unsure of the approximate distance between himself and the flames. "Aren't you?"

Harry shook his head, forgetting Malfoy couldn't see that. "Actually, I'm warm enough now, thanks." He could see this wasn't exactly what Malfoy wanted to hear and moved a little closer. "If you're cold then I can share the blanket with you," he offered, since Malfoy didn't even have a coat. There was always the danger that he could relapse and fall ill again.

Clearly the thought of being under a blanket with a nude Harry Potter wasn't exactly appealing. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "In your dreams, Potter."

"I'm serious," Harry moved to sit beside him. "There isn't a lot we can do if you get sick again, all right?" When Draco made no further response, Harry wrapped one end of the blanket over the other's shoulders. There wasn't a lot of room for the both of them. Harry could feel Malfoy tense as they sat there, shoulder to shoulder. Neither was particularly thrilled by their situation, but Malfoy's shivering had eased and Harry was now far from tired. "We were sharing a blanket before you left. This can't be that bad."

"You were wearing clothes before I left," Draco grumbled.

Harry had to give him that. He doubted the situation could get much more uncomfortable. "Why did you leave? Where did you think you were going to go?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Why did you bring me here?"

That was the question Harry had been dreading ever since they had left the Burrow. "The Ministry was going to come for you."

"And what did that have to do with you?" Malfoy tugged the blanket further over to his side, leaving Harry with noticeably less than before. "You just wanted to be a hero. I didn't need you to save me, Potter."

He knew he shouldn't be, but Harry couldn't help but feel angry at how unappreciative Malfoy was. "Oh, so I guess you already had some grand escape scheme?" Receiving no immediate answer, Harry grew all the more frustrated. "If you would really rather die just say so. Ron, Hermione, and I all put ourselves at risk just to help you, but we could hand you over to the Ministry any time, you know?"

"Then do it!" Harry was caught off-guard by Draco's outburst.

"What?"

"If I'm really that much trouble, then just hand me over to Scrimgeour." Malfoy didn't move out from under the blanket, it was far too cold for that. He was able, however, to position himself so that his back was to Harry, who had yet to respond. "Well, Potter, are you deaf? I'm telling you that I don't care. Where would I go? It's a fine job you did _saving _me when you knew there was nowhere I could go!"

Malfoy fell silent and Harry didn't say a word for some time. He could feel the other's back to his, still tense, with what Harry assumed to be anger. "So where were you planning on going if you say you have nowhere to go?"

Again, Malfoy shrugged though this time it came paired with an answer. "Home. If they're going to catch me anyway, I might as well go home. Besides, it's infinitely more comfortable than camping out in the wilderness with you."

Harry stared out the ground for a few moments longer then merely nodded. "Well, do you still want to go there?" He felt Malfoy relax slightly and shift a little as if to face him. "You don't have anywhere to go, you're right…But I can't take you back to the Ministry so I really don't have anywhere I can go either. Scrimgeour will be looking for us, but not as well I'm sure he'd like to. There are more important people for him to find. Your own home would be much too obvious. They'll check there only when they can't find us anywhere else. By then, we'll have thought this all over more rationally and be gone. We can head there in the morning if you want to."

"Listen to you, trying so be the hero even now," Malfoy drawled, tugging the blanket further to his side, and beginning to lie down. Harry restrained him by grabbing his arm.

"Do you want to go or not? If you don't give me a straight answer, we'll just wait for Hermione to come up with something." Harry knew this must have been a challenge for Malfoy, agreeing with something he had suggested. "Do you want to go home or not?"

"I do," Draco said almost vehemently.

If Harry wanted any lasting civility between them he knew he shouldn't be pushing like this. "All right then." He released Malfoy's arm and laid down. "We'll figure out how to get there in the morning. You seem up to traveling now. How did that happen so fast? I don't think Hermione's quite _that _good at medicine."

"Does that really matter, Potter?" Malfoy lay down beside him, turning onto his side so that his back was to Harry's right shoulder.

"I guess not," Harry admitted, a bit reluctant to let that go so quickly. He sighed and merely closed his eyes. "Good night, Malfoy." There was no response aside from an over-dramatic groan. There really was no need for niceties; Malfoy hated him. Showing the other any kindness was completely pointless. Of course, if Malfoy did in fact hate him, then why had he not let him die when he had taken that fall through the ice? "Thanks…for before." There was no response at all this time. "I know you're not asleep, Malfoy. The polite thing to do would be to accept my thanks or thank me for yourself. I did save you from the Ministry." He sighed again, opening his eyes and looking to the canopy of treetops above. "Nevermind." He was beginning to think that "rescuing" Malfoy had indeed been foolish. Harry was sure they weren't the Ministry's primary concern but if they found them, what would happen then? He decided he had dwelt on this subject enough for one night.

At least this time Harry could fall to sleep without having to worry about finding that Draco was missing when he next woke. He made a mental note to reclaim his wand the next morning and go to the stream to find his glasses. First, of course he would have to get dressed then he and Malfoy would go find the others. Surely Hermione- "Thanks, Potter." It was hasty and soft spoken, but those words abruptly impeded Harry's thoughts. Harry smiled but repressed the urge to respond. Recognizing what Malfoy had said would likely only make him take it all back. Instead Harry closed his eyes again, calmer and more satisfied than he had been in days. For the first time since they had left the Burrow, he felt reassured that he had truly done the right thing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Harry?" Words began to register with Harry as his mind roused to a waking state. "Harry?" Specifically, it was the incessant chanting of his own name that stirred him. He lifted his head slightly. The light stung his eyes as he opened them, causing black spots to dance around his field of vision for some time before he was able to take in his surroundings. At first, he wasn't quite sure where he was.

"Harry?"

That voice was female; he recognized it as Hermione's.

"Where the bloody hell are you!"

That voice was most definitely male and obviously belonged to Ron. There was a certain sense of urgency to both of their voices. All of this registered with Harry, and yet it wasn't until he lay back down that he realized he wasn't alone. His head was bowed against someone's back, one arm draped around that somebody's waist. A hand rested over Harry's wrist, keeping his arm firmly in place. While the blanket was still in sight, it had been kicked partially away sometime while they had slept.

Harry could hear the footsteps of his friends growing nearer as he made a scramble for the blanket, fully intending to cover himself. Unfortunately, the boy beside him seemed set on keeping Harry's arm where it was. Flushed and still nude, Harry jerked his arm free just in time to hear Hermione shriek. He whipped around to find a startled Hermione hastily looking elsewhere and a remarkably red Ronald Weasley.

Harry managed to snatch the blanket and wrap it around his waist as he stood. "It isn't what it looks like!"

"I don't know what this looks like!" Ron shouted, still alarmed and wide-eyed. "I don't _want_ to know what this looks like!"

"Malfoy ran off during the night. I went after him." Harry did his best to explain. Though the others were blurry without his glasses, he could plainly see that Hermione was still averting her eyes, and that Ron was gawking at the scene before him in disbelief. "You see, there was a stream just there - a very deep stream really - and I fell through the ice. I-ah-that is, my clothes got soaked and I lost my glasses." Harry was sure, had Hermione been there, she would have known what to do. She was much cooler under pressure than Harry could ever hope to be. Despite all this, Hermione looked skeptical

After an incredibly awkward silence, Ron just shook his head "Okay 'Mione, he's…decent." Ron, to Harry's relief, went to gather his friend's clothes. Unfortunately, the fire had gone out some time during the night, and a layer of dew had managed to keep his shirt and trousers nice and damp.

"How's Malfoy?" Hermione asked, approaching Harry, which only embarrassed him further.

"Well enough to make a run for it," Ron grumbled. He didn't look very happy with the current situation; though, Harry couldn't help but notice that his friend looked rather well rested with all things considered. "You said your glasses fell in this stream, over there?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded, still desperately clinging to the blanket around his waist. "He's fine now. I have no idea how but-"

Hermione frowned kneeling down beside Draco. "He doesn't look fine to me."

"Wh-wait-what?" Harry forgot about the cold and his embarrassing predicament as he knelt back down beside Hermione. He realized it probably _was _a little odd that Malfoy hadn't woken up during any of this. Draco was still lying there; seemingly asleep and decidedly paler than usual. "He was fine last night."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not doubting you, Harry. It just doesn't look that likely." She leaned over Malfoy, unbuttoning his shirt.

"How is that _not_ doubting me?" Harry snapped, annoyed. "I swear, last night he was-"

"That's odd," Hermione interrupted.

"What?" Harry looked back to Malfoy, trying to see what was wrong. "He's not that bad off, is he?"

"No, I mean-I don't know. It's just…" Hermione peeled back the bandages on Draco's neck so that Harry could see as well. The skin itself looked irritated but there was a white area around the wound, where the scar tissue had formed. Hermione pulled back the edge of the bandages on Draco's chest and her frown deepened, clearly puzzled. There was scarring, but the wounds had almost completely healed. "You didn't find a way to use a healing spell, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "No." He looked abruptly to Hermione, confused. "Wait – if he's suddenly better, why is he still sick?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and reached into the pack of books she had been carrying. "It has to be unrelated," she said, removing the blanket she and Ron had shared the previous night from her pack.

"Maybe it's the cold?" Harry guessed, watching Hermione button Draco's shirt back up before covering him with the extra blanket.

"I don't know. If-"

"Oy, 'Mione'?" Ron emerged from the bushes, looking vexed and slightly soggy. "Think you could give me a hand getting these glasses? It's all ice over here and I can't-What's wrong with him now?" Ron was, naturally, referring to Malfoy.

Hermione sighed. "Just keep him warm," she instructed, standing and going to help Ron before he could say anything stupid.

Harry watched the two of them retreat behind the foliage once more. Ron still wasn't fond of Draco's traveling with them, and it seemed he tried to make a point of expressing this at any opportunity.

Harry tried to forget about the less important issues for now, looking down at Malfoy again. He seemed harmless enough as things stood at the moment. True, he and Harry had never been on the best of terms, but they both seemed to have come to something of an understanding at the moment. Harry certainly had no intention of allowing him to experience a relapse after all this effort. "Malfoy?" Harry pulled Draco against himself, realizing he was probably significantly colder than the blonde at the moment. Recently, he had just become a bit too familiar with holding Draco. It was almost reflex by now. "Come on, wake up," he called softly, shaking the other's shoulder.

To his surprise, Draco seemed to respond to both the touch and the warmth. He groaned, turning to bury face in the blanket draped over Harry's shoulders. Harry smiled faintly, put at ease. "Well, at least you're alive."

This seemed to bring Malfoy to his senses. He pulled away from Harry, albeit only slightly. "Do I even want to ask what you're doing, Potter?" he drawled, drowsily. "Must I always wake up in your arms? Honestly, before long I'll be afraid to go to sleep at all."

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't as offended as he would normally find himself about now. He was still much too relieved for that. Draco seemed all right. "Noted, next time I'll just hand you over to Ron."

"On second thought-wait-it's awfully cold out here," Draco complained. "I thought you were taking me home?"

Harry nodded. "I am." He let go of Malfoy. "Just be patient." He realized a bit too late that 'being patient' wasn't really Draco's style.

"Potter, it's cold and windy and it might be snowing. I want to sleep in my own bed." It was a command, not a complaint this time.

Harry sighed and felt around for his wand, which he soon spotted sticking out of the thin layer of snow nearest his trousers.

"Here, Harry. They needed a few minor repairs, but your glasses are fine," Hermione paused a few feet away, eyeing Draco. "Oh, he's awake."

Ron groaned, overhearing Hermione's comment. "Well, that certainly makes things easier," he grumbled sarcastically.

Unable to do much more than listen at this point, Malfoy only snorted. This entire predicament was, undoubtedly, very embarrassing for him. Harry could see a fight approaching and promptly changed the subject. "We have to get out of this weather."

Hermione nodded, seemingly eager to change subjects. "He's absolutely right." She went to Harry, handing him his glasses. "But I'm not quite sure where we can go."

Harry nodded, accepting his glasses and putting them back on. "I've been giving that some thought," he began, not quite sure how the others would react. "I think we should hide out at the Malfoy manor." Harry had been prepared for an outburst from Ron, and he wasn't going to be disappointed.

"You've gone mental!" The sounds of the morning were easily drowned out by Ron's shouting. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but-"

"Ron, quiet!" Hermione gave Ron a stern look. "I'm sure Harry has his reasons. From a logical standpoint, it certainly isn't a _bad _idea. The Malfoy manor was a crime scene, but that was a while ago. By now, it's likely to be abandoned. With the war, there's probably no one watching it."

Ron wasn't so willing to agree. "Haven't we risked our lives enough for that git? We're supposed to be searching for the clues, we're _supposed_ to be finding the next Horcrux! I'd think the world is a little more important than… _him._" He pointed an accusing finger at Malfoy, who still hadn't said much of anything. It was difficult to tell whether he was simply listening or actually unconscious again. Regardless, Harry kept the blanket around both of them.

"We have to figure out our next plan of action," Hermione insisted. "We need somewhere a little more comfortable and warmer than out in the open like this. Besides, there might be something useful at the Malfoy's. I doubt they confiscated everything."

Ron shook his head once more. "It still doesn't-"

"We're going, Ron." Harry had heard about enough of this. He kept his words resolute. "Unless you have a better idea, there isn't much else open to us right now."

Ron cast Harry a hard glare though his gaze immediately shifted down to Malfoy. Harry and Ron had fought before; they'd had their disagreements and arguments in the past. Eventually, it always passed, and they always made up and were usually closer than before because of it. Harry hoped this wouldn't be then the end of that trend. Draco's presence here wasn't bringing the best out of either of them.

Hermione came to Harry's rescue once more, changing the subject before things could go further. "Harry, if Malfoy is still awake, you two Apparate together. I'll go with Ron."

Ron cast Hermione a doubtful, sidelong glance. "You've never been to the Malfoys'. How can you picture getting us there in once piece if you've never been there?"

"I saw the pictures in the newspaper," Hermione said confidently. "I'm pretty sure I can make it there."

"_Pretty_ sure." This hadn't exactly been what Ron had wanted to hear but, much like Harry, Hermione wasn't going to have much more of his attitude either.

"Well, if you would rather go with Malfoy…" This had done a rather good job of shutting Ron up.

"I'm going to be splinched, I just know it," Ron grumbled under his breath before promptly continuing his mumbling, "-head'll be left behind or something."

"Here's hoping. Not much else will shut you up."

Harry looked down to Malfoy upon hearing his snide remark. Evidently, he had been awake. Before Ron could make any sort of response, Harry motioned them both away. "Go ahead and Apparate, if you're sure you'll make it." He was sure Hermione could. She had passed her test first, between the three of them. In fact, she was the only one of them who had managed to pass the test. Harry had gotten a handle on Apparition over the summer. His practice hadn't actually been authorized, or even legal for that matter, but Harry was sure he could handle this. After all, Wiltshire wasn't that far. Never-the-less, Harry now found his confidence wavering slightly. He would really sooner just fly had the weather permitted.

"Come on, Ron. We left the brooms this way." Whether she had noticed Harry's dilemma or not, Hermione tugged on Ron's sleeve and led him back the way they had come. She did, however, pause before crossing the body of water that blocked their path. "Be careful now, Harry. If Ron and I don't see you there, I'll come back for you…but I'd really rather not have to search for missing limbs."

That hadn't exactly been the vote of confidence Harry had been hoping for. He gave his friend a flat sort of look "I think I can manage, thanks Hermione." As soon as she was out of sight, he immediately separated himself from the Draco and the blanket and went to dress in his still damp clothes.

"I don't think you have a license," Malfoy drawled from where he still sat on the ground.

Again, Harry really wasn't in the mood for the attitude he received. He debated whether or not to even answer Draco as he finished with his shirt and pulled on his trainers. "I just haven't taken the test yet."

"Oh, forgive me," Malfoy began sarcastically. "I had forgotten that Saint Potter was above the law."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said between the chattering of his teeth. Wet clothes in this weather were almost painful. "I really don't think I'm the one who needs to be worrying about the law," Harry countered as he knelt by Draco again, taking the blanket from him and folding it up.

Malfoy still didn't seem pleased. The blonde didn't stand just yet, remaining seated on the ground. "If you gave me my wand back, I could –"

"Nice try," Harry interrupted, taking Malfoy's arm and pulling him up rather forcefully.

Under any other circumstances Draco might have pulled away or, at the very least, given Harry a few choice words. It seemed he had long since given up any hope of keeping his usual cool in this sort of situation, though. He needed Harry right now and that was simply all there was to it. Malfoy might hate him, but he certainly wasn't a fool. He would use Harry until there was nothing more the other could do to benefit him. "Well, I think I would at least feel better going with the Mudblood."

Harry couldn't bring himself to help fuel the already hostile atmosphere between them. Instead, he merely gave Draco his arm. Harry wasn't particularly surprised to find that the hands holding onto him weren't quite as steady as they needed to be. Reluctantly, he wrapped one arm around Malfoy's waist and hoped for the best possible reaction under the conditions.

To Harry's relief, Malfoy made no objections. It was likely that he was just as embarrassed as Harry was. "Are you ready?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Not really," he said. "Just get it over with, will you?"

Harry took a deep breath, doing his best to visualize the picture he had seen in the Daily Prophet. He swallowed his doubt, convincing himself that he really could manage the trip before turning and falling into the invisible opening he had just created. He found himself unable to breathe almost immediately. Ignoring the crushing sensation upon his chest, Harry tried to keep focused. The arm he had around Malfoy tightened involuntarily and he was slightly ashamed to notice that Draco's hold on his own arm, wasn't quite the desperate death-grip Harry was prone to during Side-Along Apparition.

. It took a rather sharp mental kick to get Harry's mind focused again. He tried to picture his destination once more. He could see the front gate, the corners of a garden hedge around the wall, and the--the breath rushed back into Harry as his body popped from the constraining tube-like magic it had just traveled through. He landed rather roughly due to this and immediately found himself falling backwards.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed what was nearest him. Unfortunately, this just happened to be a particularly thorny hedge and all it really accomplished was to scratch his wrist up as he continued the fall downwards. Unintentionally, he pulled the other boy in his arms closer as he descended and hit the ground first. Harry groaned, the air effectively knocked out of him for a second time.

"Oh, Potter. My hero." Sarcasm dripped from those taunting words and Harry almost dreaded looking up. Had his eyes not been bandaged, Malfoy would have probably been giving him a rather patronizing look by this point. Even in his condition, he did look thoroughly amused. "We lived, congratulations. Tell me, are we both in one piece?"

Harry was curious about the answer to that himself. He pushed Malfoy off him none-too-gently and onto the ground, sitting up to get a good look at his surroundings. It wasn't much warmer where they had landed, but there wasn't any snow on the ground. All of his limbs seemed to be in order. He glanced towards Malfoy, who was sitting up as well, with his back to the hedge Harry had fallen against. "Do you have a garden?" Harry asked as he stood. All he could really see from this vantage point was a rather extensive collection of plants, shrubs, trees, and herbs that would likely have been very impressive had it not been winter.

"It's in the back," Draco said, unimpressed. "I take it you at least got us to the general area then?"

Harry only rolled his eyes, standing on tiptoe to get a glimpse over the closest row of hedges. A magnificent stone structure was visible just beyond the garden. He stepped back, able to see the top-most floor as he did so. Was this Draco's home? It looked more like a small castle in Harry's opinion than a home. His resentment of the other grew a bit stronger, though he had to admit the house was all a bit too gloomy for his taste. Something about the cold gray sky set just behind that likewise cold, gray stone – Harry still preferred the warm atmosphere of the Burrow. He was almost afraid to even go inside the Malfoy's home after seeing the outside.

"Get up," Harry turned back to Draco, taking his arm. They needed to get inside before Hermione assumed they hadn't made it inside. "Now, how do we get out of this? Damnit, do you have a maze in your backyard?"

"Just pick a direction, Potter." Malfoy certainly wasn't being much help. He kept one hand on Harry's arm as he used the other to dust himself off. He clearly couldn't have been less interested in his "captor's" dilemma.

Harry was about to say something scathing but thought better of it. "I could just set the whole thing up in flames you know."

"Watch it, Potter." There wasn't much of an implied threat but, joke or not, Malfoy hadn't appreciated Harry's idea. "Besides, if anyone catches you – "

Harry was forced to a stop as Malfoy did. "What?" Harry glanced back, noticing the opening in the hedges. He had been ignoring the openings to their left. They seemed to only go deeper into the maze itself instead of leading to any exit. The path Malfoy had stopped before looked no different, but it occurred to Harry that it certainly wouldn't be this that was bothering Draco anyway. He certainly shouldn't be able to see it if there had been something strange.

It took Draco a moment to respond. He appeared genuinely shaken as he stood there, head lowered slightly. "You picked the wrong direction, just…just go the other way, all right?"

Again, Harry could have chosen something smart or insulting to say. Instead he just shrugged. "Whatever, come on." He led Draco on in the opposite direction. Going this way, it didn't take long before Harry had found the way out of the maze. From the exit, he cut across the lawn and stone path to the front steps. The gate was locked and he could still see the caution tape in the distance. If they were spotted here, the Ministry would undoubtedly be on top of them within minutes.

"Slow down," Malfoy snapped, tripping as they reached the front steps. "What's your rush anyway?"

"Someone could be watching!" Harry hissed, turning around to face Malfoy and help lead him up the steps. "We're all going to be in deep trouble if they find us here." He just hoped Hermione was right and there wasn't any sort of protective magic on the Malfoy manor. In retrospect, this might have been a dumb idea. He froze once he was actually at the door. The ornate handle felt frigid and uninviting under his hand. What would happen when he opened the doors? What if trying to get inside triggered a spell? For all he knew, Ron and Hermione could already be at the hands of the Ministry!

"Oh, Harry, for Merlin's sake-"

Before Harry could manage a coherent objection, Draco had pulled him back from the door. With Harry's hand still in the handle, the door opened quite suddenly. Harry's breath caught in his through. He stood there frozen for several moments, anticipating the worst.

"Well, Potter? Go inside."

Harry was slightly embarrassed to realize that everything was clear, or at least looked that way. Taking his chances, Harry stepped inside, closing the door back before taking a look around.

The Malfoy's home was quite impressive. Beyond the open vestibule entrance, a carpet of a dark, hunter green stretched out to a double stairway. There were doors to the left and right of the staircase as well as plenty of antique pictures and tapestries on the walls. It was all very exquisite but a bit too large and drafty for Harry's taste. He couldn't have imagined anything that could possibly be more different than the cupboard under the stairs he had grown up in. Of course, he also had to admit that this place looked considerably more dreary than, say, the Burrow. It was lovely but certainly wouldn't have been any place for a child.

"Harry, up here!" Ron was leaning against the banister a floor up. He looked as if he was quite bored and wasn't particularly thrilled to be in the house of his enemy. "Hermione and I were looking around but then she found the library and, well-" He pointed to the door to Harry's immediate left. "She's still in there."

Harry would have thought Hermione would be searching the house, much like he intended to. There really was no telling if the Ministry had left traps, and they should be found. "Come down here," Harry called up to his friend. "We need to stay together. If we-" He was cut off when he realized that Draco had gone ahead, his former classmate presently feeling his way to the banister, leaning against the wall for some support.

"Where do you think you're going?" Some prisoner he was. Granted, Draco wasn't exactly Harry's prisoner to begin with, but he had hoped for at least a little authority over the other.

"To bed," Malfoy said tersely. He seemed more relaxed here and it seemed he clearly knew his way around his own home, with or without the use of his sight.

Harry took a few steps after him, but was immediately cut off by Hermione, "Let him go. There's something I want to show you in here." She left the door open as she retreated back inside. Harry glanced up to Ron who merely shrugged and sidestepped Draco to come downstairs as well. Harry was still uncomfortable with the situation. With one last glance upwards, he caught a glimpse of silver-blonde hair vanishing down a dark hallway.

"I thought the Ministry already seized everything." Ron's words brought Harry back around. He followed Ron through the open doorway and down a short hall. There were no lamps lit and Harry fumbled with his wand in the darkness. "_Lumos_." A thin layer of dust covered the decorative tables and pictures that lined the hallway. He nearly tripped over an urn that was in his path before his wand lit up.

"They took everything that was related to the Dark Arts, or looked useful," Hermione had climbed up a ladder secured to one of the many bookshelves in the room. The library was a circular area with a spiral staircase leading to a second floor of books, most of which were strewn along the ground. The layers of dust Harry had seen in the hallway covered the clutter on the floor. He couldn't help but wonder how long ago the Malfoys had really died.

"So what are we looking for?" Ron asked, nonplussed as he flipped over a leather bound book on the floor, reading the title over with little interest.

"The Ministry couldn't take everything. They probably thought they would have just been wasting their time…I mean, nothing here is useful at first glance but, see, something like this-" She selected a book from the shelf and climbed down the ladder. "Family histories, the Malfoys, the Blacks, records, everything. At least that's what this shelf here has. The rest are…well…really any reference book you could imagine. It's such an amazing collection."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron's annoyed reaction to all of this gushing. "You should save all this for Malfoy. I'm sure he would appreciate hearing what you think of this place a lot more than we do."

There had been a lot of animosity between Ron and, well, everyone else since they had left the Burrow. Hermione brandished the book she was holding as if she planned on hurling it at him. "Ron…"

"He's right-"

Hermione's accusing gaze shifted immediately to Harry. "What was that?"

Realization struck Harry and he quickly shook his head, holding up his hands in surrender. "No, no, I just mean…Shouldn't Malfoy be here? I'm really not sure it's a great idea to just let him wander around on his own."

Hermione calmed down considerably, picking up an overturned chair and taking a seat. "He said he was just going to sleep, didn't he? I'm sure he only went to his room. He doesn't have a wand Harry. Malfoy isn't going anywhere. He's probably just genuinely tired. I know I could do with some more sleep."

Ron nodded in agreement for once. "Or some dinner-Didn't we find a kitchen earlier?"

"To the right." Hermione pointed back down the hall, the way they had come in. "You can check the pantry. There are bound to be some non-perishables. Harry, just go check on Malfoy if you're so worried."

"…I'm not worried…" Harry grumbled, but Hermione had gone back to thumbing through books, and Ron was wading through the clutter on the floor to get to the kitchen. Checking in on Malfoy certainly couldn't hurt. If nothing else, he could at least make sure there was no way for him to make a run for it like he had last night.

Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Harry left the library and went to the stairs. The stairway was covered in the same sort of dark green color scheme he had seen downstairs. While the deep green hue of the rug under his feet was lovely, and the detailed etchings in the stone banisters breathtaking, Harry still wasn't sure he could have stomached living in a place like this.

Perhaps Harry was simply used to the close, cramped conditions of the Burrow, or even of his own cupboard years ago. Whatever the reason, Harry was certain this would have to be a dreadfully dreary and boring place for anyone to grow up in. He made it to the landing and looked both ways. The second floor wasn't quite as cluttered as the library. Just the same, Harry had to choose his steps carefully to avoid stepping on anything. It seemed all the doors ahead of him were wide open, likely from the Ministry's most recent raid. Only one was closed. Harry assumed that this was Malfoy's room and promptly headed in that direction.

"You there!"

Harry nearly stumbled over his own feet, caught completely off-guard by a voice from below.

"You there, boy!"

Initially seeing nothing as he looked down, Harry turned to find a rather annoyed looking older man, glaring up at him from the confines of a picture frame. He was blonde, regal, and, in all likelihood, a Malfoy. Of course, the Malfoy did appear quite displeased with where his picture had fallen.

"Put me back on the wall, will you?" The picture sounded very impatient and almost bored, as if Harry had little option other than to do as he instructed.

"I'm coming back," Harry assured the picture, promptly turning his back to the frame and its contents as he went for the closed door.

A torrent of shouts followed him. "Boy! Boy, come back here, _now_! The impudence! The sheer audacity of the youth these days is appalling. You're no better than that tall fellow, really-"

Harry wasn't quite sure why that statement had struck him, but he stopped a few steps from the door and looked back to the picture on the floor. "Who? Malfoy?"

"The Malfoy boy?" The man in the picture seemed a bit taken aback himself. "I should say not. No, no, this was a man. I do believe I've seen him before…Works at that…school. Boy, boy, where are you going?!"

Harry had forced the door open, wand raised. He was met with only a cold draft of air. The room before him was very dark and very still. _"Lumos," _he whispered, taking a step inside but keeping his back to the wall.

Draco's room seemed to be just as nice as any of the others in the Malfoy house. Just the same, it had been pilfered through. The shelves were overturned and the drapes torn down and thrown to the floor…or rather…below the floor. Harry moved closer to inspect what looked to be a hole in the middle of the room.

Warily, Harry crossed the room to kneel down where the floor boards seemed to have seperated. He couldn't help but notice burn marks around the area, almost as if someone had tried to get into it through alternative means. Had it been the Ministry? Harry put that thought away as he lifted back the edge of one of the drapes, and found nothing more than several books, a medium sized box, and a couple dozen crystal bottles, within which swirled something gray and smoky. Harry vaguely recalled seeing something like this before, but knew that, at the moment, whatever had been stored here was the least of his concerns.

Ignoring the possibility of another being in the room, he stood. "Malfoy?" Harry raised his wand again, looking around as he went over to the bed. "Malfoy?" he called again, jerking back the sheets. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as he realized that no one was there. "Malfoy!" He looked around wildly, cursing himself for having let Draco go upstairs alone.

With his mind racing, Harry rushed to the window and looked out. Maybe Draco had just gone to a different room, perhaps he was still in the house. If so, who was the teacher the Malfoy in the picture had spoken of? The first name that came to mind was Snape. But surely it couldn't be him. Harry scanned the grounds quickly. The snowstorm left the sky prematurely darkened and with the snow falling outside the window, he certainly couldn't see much else.

The stone path leading to the main door was slightly obscured and he could only just make out the cold gray of the gate. It still appeared to be closed and, most likely, locked. Of course, Apparation wasn't out of the question. What real proof did he have that Malfoy hadn't just Apparated off the grounds with Snape? Harry pushed that thought to the back of his mind and kept looking. He had no way to be sure that the intruder, if there even was an intruder, was Snape. He knew he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.

Harry realized that it might be best to go downstairs and tell the others so that they could go about this more strategically. It was then, that from the corner of his eye he saw movement. Harry moved closer to the window, trying to get a better look outside. Perhaps it had only been his imagination; the movement he had seen could have been anything, but then it happened again as he watched. There were two, very distinct dark blurs in the distance, one much taller than the other. There was no doubt that both were people and currently moving through the garden Harry had initially Apparated into.

"Harry, what are y-"

Hermione's voice barely registered. He just vaguely caught the sight her moving towards the gap in the floor as he ran past. Snape or not, someone was with Malfoy outside. Harry couldn't accept that the plan he had worked so hard on was falling apart this soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The wind had picked up and the cold burned relentlessly at Harry's skin. He couldn't hear much because of this and the falling snow seemed to be set upon sticking to his glasses and completely obscuring his vision. Calling out to Malfoy crossed his mind, but that could possibly do more harm than good. If Snape chose to simply Apparate from the center of the maze, there wouldn't be much Harry could do to follow him.

Having Malfoy taken by the Death Eaters would probably prove a great deal worse than losing him to the Ministry. He had to be useless to them at this point, especially if both of his parents were dead. There was no leverage there. If they wanted him so badly now, there had to be a very specific reason.

It was only once he was in the maze that Harry realized he had no idea how to get to the center. Immediately Harry reached for his wand, though he realized quickly enough that this wasn't the best idea and instead raced down the nearest hedge-lined path. Unfortunately, with all the cold, it was rather slick going. Harry took a right, then a left, followed by more turns than he could count. He wasn't entirely sure if he was getting any closer or just doing a very quick job of becoming lost.

"No!"

Malfoy's voice rose over the wind and the sound of Harry's own footsteps. He stopped for a moment, trying to discern which direction that objection had come from.

"I said-" The wind picked up and most of Draco's sentence was lost to the weather. "-go….without…"

Harry knew he had to be close. But really, how close could that be? There was no direct path to wherever Malfoy and Snape were. Harry had no way of knowing if the path he was on hit a dead end, snaked back to the beginning, or merely passed them right by to the exit.

It didn't seem as if Harry had much other option than to keep running. He took more turns, backtracking and switching paths for a couple more minutes before he realized that even if he did catch Snape by surprise, he and Malfoy would be long gone by the time he finally got there.

Harry drew his wand, eyes fixed on the hedge at the end of the path ahead of him. He continued to run, readying a spell to simply get this barrier out of the way. The incantation was on the tip of his tongue when his foot hit something, and Harry found himself pitching forward and onto the ground. The thin layer of snow there did little to break his fall.

Harry got to his knees unsteadily, preparing to get back up. Before he could get to his feet, curiosity won over priority. He glanced back to see what it was he had tripped over. It wasn't very difficult to discern Draco from beneath the overcoat that had been draped over him. His back was to one of the hedges, and his long legs were outstretched in front of him, which seemed to be what Harry had tripped over.

"Malfoy?" Harry called, a bit urgently. Some snow had collected in the other's hair and stood out on the black overcoat, but not much. He couldn't have been here long. Just the same, he had given Harry no acknowledgment. "Malfoy?" Harry repeated, putting a hand to the other's shoulder. There was still no response, though Harry could see that he was breathing. He couldn't tell if Draco was unconscious or simply didn't want to speak with him at the moment.

Harry knew it would probably be wise to just take Malfoy back inside. A glance back revealed to Harry a pathway he hadn't noticed from straight on. There were marble benches arranged around an impressive statue of a rather imposing older man. It could have been a trick of the light, but Harry was sure he saw it move further away. This thought and any others, however, were forced from his mind as the silloette of a man stepped from behind the effigy.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry recovered his wand and rushed to his feet. Several particularly nasty spells crossed his mind. Before he could select the worst, the man near the statue turned to face him.

"Lupin?" Harry lowered his wand, confused and rightly so. His former professor stood a few yards before him, looking as calm and sensible as ever. Reason told Harry that Lupin shouldn't be here. If not with his troops, then sorting out some sort of plan of attack with the rest of the Order. At the very least, he certainly shouldn't have known how to find them. If Lupin could track Harry, the Ministry couldn't be far behind.

"I apologize if I scared you," Lupin began, before any questions concerning his presence here could be addressed.

Harry only shook his head, approaching his former professor in something of a daze. "What? Why are you-I mean-Why did you-"

"There was just something I needed to check on." It was all too clear that Lupin was trying to get by without giving Harry much of an answer. "I should warn you though, you shouldn't stay here for more than a couple of days at most. Scrimgeour is furious."

Harry had no intention of letting Lupin go without further questioning, but at the moment he couldn't help but ask a few more urgent questions. "The Weasleys are all right, aren't they? They weren't blamed for any of this?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, of course not. But you and your friends are in plenty of trouble. Which is why you need to decide on a plan of action. Try not to spend any time out front. There's always the chance that you might be spotted." He walked past Harry and towards Draco. "Here, I'll take Malfoy back to the room. You follow."

Something was wrong with all of this and, at the moment, Harry didn't trust Lupin nearly enough to let him leave with Malfoy again. There were still quite a few questions he intended to ask him first. "I'll get him," Harry said quickly, brushing past Lupin to kneel beside the still silent Slytherin.

Harry had tried not to let this seem as though he didn't trust Lupin but such seemed inevitable. Remus regarded his old student, disconcerted. "All right then." He raised his own wand to Apparate away alone.

"Wait." Harry looked up from where he kneeled on the ground beside Draco. "You're coming too, right? We need to talk."

Lupin seemed to consider this for a moment. The wind picked up a moment later and he hurriedly nodded. "Fine, fine, just hurry."

Harry was a little more confident when he vanished from the snow and was forced through the same narrow space in reality that would, eventually, lead to Malfoy's bedroom. He kept one arm around Draco, having a hard time catching his breath. Just because he was more confident certainly didn't mean he had to like it. The image of his destination was firmly in his mind, however, and within moments he appeared on Draco's bed with a _pop_.

The noise and the sudden appearance of two teenage boys startled Hermione. In fact, it appeared to startle her so much that she dropped one of the crystal bottles Harry had seen earlier. The bottle shattered and the contents simply seemed to vanish. It was only when Harry noticed the bowl on the floor nearby that he realized what the bottle had contained. "Hermione!"

"I-I'm sorry. I…I should go check on Ron." Hermione was actually trembling as she stumbled backwards, away from the pensieve. She promptly turned and fled the room, only puzzling Harry further. He released Malfoy and stood to pursue her when Lupin appeared in the doorway.

"I suppose you're wondering why I took him?" Lupin said, implying Malfoy as he crossed the room to reclaim his coat.

Forgetting about Hermione for the moment, Harry nodded and again took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I thought…that is…I didn't know who you were. You should have said something to us if you needed him. Why _did _you need him?"

"As I said before, there was simply something I needed to check on," Lupin said, shaking the excess snow from his jacket. "You see, one of the reasons the Ministry could never find any dark artifacts in the Malfoy household was because portions of the rooms, say hidden compartments and passage ways, are only accessible when a Malfoy is the one looking for them."

Harry's eyes strayed to the hole in the floor. Burn marks still charred the fine wood that surrounded it. "Was that one of them?"

Lupin followed Harry's gaze and nodded. "One that only Draco could access, I would imagine. They certainly tried to get to it. This sort of magic is crafted into the house itself, though. Even tearing away the surrounding area won't do. I'm sure there was something they wanted in there… or at least something they believe they wanted."

Trust for the man who had once been one of Harry's favorite professors was quickly giving way to suspicion. These were times when you simply couldn't be too careful. Harry was beginning to understand that better as these days as war went on. "So, did you take anything?"

Lupin didn't seem surprised by such a question. He merely shook his head "There's nothing there of interest to me." Noting Harry's doubtful expression, he continued, "Of course, there are some things you shouldn't know, Harry. Even if I had taken something, well, I wouldn't necessarily tell you."

That response struck Harry as a bit odd. He didn't press the matter though, instead changing the subject. "So why were you here in the first place?"

"Like I said Harry," Lupin began, his tone almost apologetic. "There are some things I just can't tell you."

"Right." Harry went to kneel by the compartment in the floor, looking over its contents a bit more carefully this time. "You've already looked through all this?" He reached for the box first, curious to see whether Lupin would stop him or not. When he made no move to do any such thing, Harry got more comfortable on the floor and placed the box on his lap.

"I know what's there. You're welcome to it." Something about Lupin still struck Harry as strange, but Harry supposed his being here was infinitely better than dealing with Snape. "I need to be going though… Where's Hedwig?"

"Huh?" Harry glanced up from the open box, disappointed to find it empty. "Oh, at Hogwarts with Ginny. We were traveling too much to bring her along.." She certainly hadn't been happy about being left behind either.

"The Ministry would be looking for her anyway…Well, try to find some way to keep in touch with me. Tell me when you leave, understood?" When there was no immediate response, Lupin went to kneel down beside Harry. "All right?"

"I don't see why. You haven't told me anything." The crystal bottles clinked softly as Harry arranged them next to the Penseive. That hadn't been here when he had first come in. He assumed that Hermione must have found it in another room.

There was a pained expression on Lupin's face as he put his hand to Harry's shoulder. "I haven't kept anything from you that you won't find out in time."

"Then why not just-" Harry cut himself off. Legal wizarding age or not, he and the others were still only children in the eyes of the rest of the world. If they were going to make it through this ordeal alive, they would need Lupin's help. There was no sense in straining the relationship between them now "Fine…"

That appeared to be enough to satisfy Lupin. He stood again, going to the window. "I haven't watched all of those, I can't promise you'll find anything interesting." He drew his wand once more. "But it might pass some time. Bye, Harry."

"Lupin, I-" But when he looked up, he realized that Lupin had already gone. With a sigh, he looked back to the bottles he had arranged in front of the Penseive. Hermione would be back in the library by now and Ron was probably still preoccupied in the kitchen. There was potentially more to learn from any memories stored here than from thumbing through shelf after shelf of outdated books. He also had a feeling that it would be significantly less boring.

Selecting one of the bottles at random, Harry mused over the swirling silver contents. They were in Draco's room, it stood to reason that these memories belonged to him. They might not be worth watching. For all Harry knew they were days at Hogwarts that he would rather forget. The misfortune of his rival would definitely be something Malfoy would see worth bottling to watch at a later date.

Curiosity got the better of Harry. "Malfoy?" he called, removing the top of the bottle even as he did so. He was sure that Draco wouldn't approve but was almost certain that he was actually unconscious this time and not just listening in on the conversation. Lupin had probably knocked him out to accomplish whatever it was he had been outside to do. He made a mental note to take a look around the maze as he emptied the contents of the bottle into the Pensieve.

Silver strings of thought swirled and clouded. They slowly began to form a thin film over the rest of the contents. Harry leaned closer and squinted through the surface of the penseive. It was like looking though a frosted window in the dead of winter. He could vaguely make out the shape of a bed and bookcases. It didn't take long for Harry to realize that he was looking into the same room he was seated in.

The room was in one piece. There was no gaping hole in the floor or overturned bookcases. Harry could just vaguely make out someone in the room as he finally leaned into the memory.

Harry experienced the familiar sensation of his feet leaving the ground, as the world in its entirety seemed to flip itself over around him. He landed rather uneasily on the floor of the same room he had just left and Harry became a little dizzy with the general confusion such paradoxes leave you experiencing.

There was a rug beneath his feet here. He looked down, to where the gap in the floor would have been. Instead he saw several picture books, all strewn about in no particular order. Witches and wizards from times past walked about, occasionally looking out of the book and seemingly through Harry completely.

It was a small model broom that soared right through Harry and across the room. He turned in the direction of the bed to find a scale town constructed mainly from blocks, books, and bits of paper. A small boy was surveying his handy work satisfactorily. Harry gauged that the child couldn't have been any older than six. He was a bit pale but quite adorable by most prepubescent standards. It was with a slight pang of annoyance that he realized the happy expression and disheveled white-blonde hair belong to a much younger version of the Draco Malfoy he knew.

Something about seeing a substantially more innocent version of, quite possibly, his worst rival bothered him deeply. It bothered him much in the same way that learning Voldemort collected tropical fish might. Several small model brooms followed the first and Harry took a step back out of reflex and watched with interest as they invaded the small town.

The brooms swooped and dove, knocking down scale buildings and punching holes through paper walls. A younger Malfoy watched, delighted as the toy city fell down around him. Harry supposed this wasn't so different than most little boys. He didn't have much to compare this to of course. Harry certainly hadn't had the most privileged childhood, nor much to play with aside from the occasional plaything Dudley had already broken. As far as Harry was concerned, regardless of his childhood on Number four Privet Drive, things had taken a turn for the better when he had been accepted to Hogwarts. Life before that point was unimportant. He envied others occasionally, but things could be worse.

At the moment, Harry tried to focus on what was so important that this memory had been preserved. So far most of the model brooms involved in the siege had met a rather unimpressive end when faced with the obstacle of hardcover books. Draco seemed disappointed, but had little time to find a solution before the door to his bedroom opened.

Narcissa Malfoy was, undeniably, an attractive woman. She appeared younger now though and, if possible, more attractive still. Like the rest of the Malfoy family, however, Harry harbored a deep sort of resentment for her as well. She was currently dressed in black robes that only stressed the soft blonde of her hair and blue of her eyes. Taking into consideration the sweet smile on her face, the stark black robes looked completely out of place. "Dear, are you ready to-" Realizing she was about to be interrupted, she went to her son, taking him by the hand and leading him to the dresser. "Those can be replaced," She said, speaking of the splinters of magiced wood that had once been the model brooms.

"But!" Draco seemed to let that go as he realized what his mother was implying. "Nooo," he whined, "I don't wan-"

"Shh." Narcissa held up the much smaller set of black robes that had been draped over her arm. "Your father already talked to you about this – arms up – You wouldn't have to go if it wasn't necessary." She slipped the robes past his head and over his clothes. "You don't want to disappoint your father, do you?"

Harry moved closer, so that he had a better vantage-point. Draco seemed to stand a little taller at the mention of his father, and ducked back as Narcisssa tried to smooth down his hair. "No." He crossed the room as his mother stood, going to slip on a pair of shoes that had been set out next to the bed. "But it's goin' to be boring?"

Harry couldn't help but notice that Narcissa's expression darkened considerably at that. "I doubt that. Hurry now, he's waiting." Narcissa rushed her son out of the bedroom and Harry hastened to follow. The hallways around him looked little different, save that everything seemed to be in order and missing a layer or two of dust. Draco kept a firm hold on his mother's hand as they went through a door at the opposite end of the hallway and into what Harry assumed to be Lucius's study.

Lucius himself sat at a desk, dressed in a black robe to match his wife and son. He closed the book he had been looking over as Narcissa entered. "Well, you took your time. You're both ready?"

Lucius stood as Narcissa smoothed back Draco's hair once more for good measure. "Yes, you can go on ahead. We'll be right behind you."

By this point, Harry had a good idea as to where they were going. The Death Eaters hadn't been very active during Voldemort's absence, but they probably hadn't completely disbanded. It just surprised him that they would take a child along on this sort of outing.

"You'll remember to be on you best behavior, Draco." The tone in Lucius's voice was one that was commanding and perhaps even a bit nervous. "You need to make a good impression." Lucius only waited for a nod from Draco before Apparating. Once he was gone, Narcissa knelt down next to her son, whispering something Harry couldn't quite catch. He didn't have time to give those missed words much thought as both Malfoys vanished.

For a moment Harry was slightly panicked. He had no way of knowing where they had gone. How was he supposed to follow? His worries were quelled as he suddenly felt the ground beneath him rush away. The lush carpet was replaced by something much more solid. A burst of wind swept back his hair and threatened to knock him right off his feet. Harry regained his balance just as the world began to darken. Suddenly, he was just a few steps behind Narcissa and Malfoy.

The plush carpet had been replaced with a hard, cold ground and the walls of the office for countless trees in all directions. It was difficult to discern the two Malfoys ahead of him from the night. Both had the hoods of their robes drawn up over the heads and were moving quickly towards what appeared to be a relatively large cottage home. Had anyone been watching from a distance, it would have been impossible to tell just who they were, assuming that the would-be spy had even caught the movement first.

Harry set off at a jog after the two. He slowed to a stop as Narcissa and Draco met with Lucius near the front door. Harry thought he heard something spoken between them again, but couldn't quite make it out. Harry stepped to the door as Lucius knocked. He wasn't willing to miss any further bits of conversation.

The door opened quickly enough, a tall, somewhat intimidating older man greeting Lucius. "You're late."

Lucius didn't look very apologetic, seemingly much more eager to just get inside. "My apologies, we-"

"No time." The man stepped aside, opening the door wide to reveal quite the elaborate interior for a simple cabin in the forest. It wasn't unlike the Malfoys' own home. The carpeting was a deep red instead of green. Golden lamps cast wavering, yellow light that made the sitting room appear more eerie than warm and welcoming.

Harry rushed in with the Malfoys, the door slamming shut at his heels. "You can leave the boy here for now," Their host said, cutting past a couch and set of armchairs, where two children sat already. Voices could be heard coming from behind a door that opened to a staircase, which the tall man quickly descended.

Lucius turned to his son and wife. "Draco, wait here. Narcissa." He went down the stairs himself, his wife lingering only a moment to nod to her son before following a few steps behind. She made a point to close the door behind her, leaving Draco noticeably confused. Harry imagined that he was probably wondering why he had been brought along at all if they were just going to leave him upstairs. Draco took a seat in one of the armchairs, however, looking to the other children with uncertainty.

Both of the other children remained awkwardly silent. A young girl Harry didn't recognize fidgeted with a strand of her own dark hair. The other boy sat on the couch across from her, staring absently at a point in the wall as he waited. He looked suspiciously familiar with his blank expression and pudding-bowl hair cut.

Draco sat in silence as long as any boy his age might. Even Harry was getting a little anxious when he finally stood, crossing the room to one of the many display cabinets. Ornate knives and other varied antiques lined the shelves. None of this was particularly interesting to a child, but it was marginally better than sitting silently in one place. The other children watched him nervously.

"My father told me to sit here." The young girl said matter-of-factly, her tone suggesting she thought herself far superior and much more well behaved than anyone else in the room.

"Told _you_," Draco said snidely, making no move to sit back down

The girl glared at him, moving onto her knees and leaning against the back of the chair so that she could watch him without disobeying her father. "Yeah, well, if they come back you're going to be in trouble."

Malfoy looked back to her skeptically. "Nuh-uh… But I can get back there before they come back up…" he said, meeting her half way.

"Bet you-" The girl was cut off as a muffled, agonized scream came from the door to Draco's right. All three children jumped, falling silent for a few moments.

"W-what was that?" asked the boy with the pudding-bowl hair cut, getting to his knees and looking out over the couch as the young girl across from him had. There was a second scream and the boy cowered low. Draco backed away a few steps, watching the door nervously. They all waited for another scream, but none came.

"Go see what it was." The girl called to Draco, nothing below her eyes visible from the back of the chair.

Draco tried to his mask his initial terror at such a suggestion, but the other boy looked horrified "But…what if-you dun' know-No, don't." He finished, having difficulty articulating exactly why Draco shouldn't go.

" –just a quick peek." The girl urged, tears in her eyes. Her parents were downstairs too, afterall. For all she knew, or cared, they could be hurt. "You're afraid." That was certainly enough to catch Draco's attention.

"Am not." he said quickly, stepping closer to the door in an effort to prove her wrong. However, Draco stopped as he reached for the door handle. "Why don't you go?" He challenged, prompting quite the momentary conundrum for the small girl.

" 'Said it yourself." She raised up from behind the chair, a bit more confident. "My father told _me_ to sit here."

"That's not-" Draco groaned, finding her logic flawed but seemingly much too impatient to argue this any longer. "Fine…"

"Don't!" The boy at the couch watched nervously as Draco eased the door open. Harry hurried behind Draco, peering down a stairwell that was old and poorly lit and had likely seen better days. Voices could be heard echoing upwards, but even Harry was unable to see anything going on below. He followed Draco as he took several tentative steps downwards.

"Well, that takes care of that."

It was becoming a little easier to make out the voices. A gruff-sounding voice responded to the last "The Ministry won't re… with… out of the way." Harry moved on ahead, trying to better make out what was being said.

It was at the bottom of the stairs that Harry was reminded just how thorough these memories could be. He was suddenly hit with a smell he vaguely recognized and was sure he didn't like. It was still a few more steps before he realized what it was.

The smell was indeed one he was familiar with, specifically from the battlefield several days ago. It was in a smaller quantity, but no less potent. The smell was that of blood and much of it was sinking into the dirt floor of the basement.

Unlike the rest of the cottage, the basement was dark and rustic looking. Several lamps were suspended near the ceiling, but there wasn't much light shed on the half dozen people standing about. Their hoods were down and Harry immediately recognized Lucius's profile and the back of Narcissa's head as she stood closest. They all stood rather calmly around carnage that bared little semblance to a human any longer. The corpse's identity was unrecognizable. The limbs were twisted impossibly in all directions, portions of skin and muscle actually ripped away from the torso.

"Someone should speak with the Ministry, regardless. I would just as soon none of us have to meet like this again. It's far too risky," said the man who had opened the front door, gazing at the body thoughtfully. His wand was still in one hand; though, he replaced this into his robes quickly. "Malfoy, I don't suppose you would mind having a word with the Minister?"

"Of course not," Lucius agreed without hesitation.

The taller man nodded and opened his mouth to say something more when a startled cry cut him off. Harry had been so horrified by the sight before him, he had almost forgotten about Draco. He turned to find the boy standing only a very short distance away, staring past his mother and father to the mangled body on the floor.

"Draco!" Lucius sounding both surprised and furious, stepped forward just as his son took off up the stairs. Harry did his best to follow, catching up as Draco tripped over the top step in his desperation to get away. He hit the floor of the sitting room hard on his knees, startling the other two children who were still where he had left them. Harry kept up with Draco as he scrambled back to his feet and took off again, rushing right out the front door.

It was still very dark out. The small clearing the cottage was located in the middle of wasn't level and it surprised Harry that Draco was able to make it to the edge of the forest before falling again. The boy looked as if he were going to be sick, though whether it was from what he had just seen or sheer terror was difficult to tell. He was making no effort to keep quiet, and had anyone been nearby or watching, they would have heard the commotion.

Harry looked away and to the cottage entrance as Draco vomited. Narcissa was the only one to emerge, quickly spotting her son and lifting up the hem of her robes as she hurried in that direction

Draco was pulling back up, perhaps to get further away from the cottage. He wiped off his mouth, still in a state of shock as his mother caught him firmly by the shoulders. Malfoy gave a startled yelp but Narcissa silenced him quickly, pressing a hand to his mouth. "Draco!" she hissed. "Why did you come downstairs?" Her voice was more regretful than angry. The tone she was using was still a scolding one and just enough to alleviate Draco's shock and reduce him to tears. "Draco, shh." Her voice had softened but was urgent. She wrapped one arm around Malfoy, pulling him into a hug as her free hand riffled through her robes for a wand that she quickly produced from her right pocket.

"We're going home." Narcissa stood, lifting the young boy into her arms as she Apparated. This time Harry was anticipating, it when he found himself suddenly back in Lucius's study. Draco's face was pressed against his mother's shoulder. She didn't seem to mind, brushing her son's hair back affectionately. Narcissa's expression was slightly pained as she worked through what had just happened.

There was never any good way to interpret death to a child. Explaining to that child that his parents had been the ones to aid in it had to be all the more difficult. Nacissa succeeded in soothing her boy for only a short time. As soon as his tears had stopped, Harry stepped to one side in surprise. Lucius had appeared just a short distance from where he had been standing.

"Put him down." Unlike his wife, Lucius made no attempt to keep his tone a gentle one. He was furious and saw no need to hide it.

Harry saw Draco willingly pull away from his mother. It was difficult to tell that he had been crying at all. Narcissa released him reluctantly, giving her husband a meaningful look. She clearly knew he was angry and was attempting to discourage him from making things any worse than they already were.

Draco seemed desperate to keep the terror from his face as his father approached him. Lucius appeared to have lost his temper long ago. "Do you have any idea of the impression you left? Of the danger you could have put all of us in? What if the Ministry had been watching?" Lucius had a way of expressing anger and disappointment while neither raising his voice nor losing a certain air of superiority.

"Sorry," Draco said weakly and a little awkwardly. Harry noticed that the young boy didn't seem sure of what his father wanted to hear from him right now. An apology was the best he could manage.

"Malfoys do _not _exhibit the disgraceful behavior you demonstrated tonight!" Lucius raised his voice as he stepped forward, gripping his startled son by the arms. "You expressly disobeyed me, and in front of-"

"Lucius! Enough!" Harry had almost forgotten Narcissa was there. She hadn't objected at first, almost as if there was nothing out of the ordinary here. It had never occurred to Harry that Lucius probably hadn't made the best of fathers. He had never given Draco's childhood much thought. There had never been any reason to and even now he regretted leaning into the Penseive. So many things felt wrong; watching this part of Draco's past was more of an intrusion than Harry had meant to make.

Lucius looked to his wife, tightening his grip on Draco's arms, perhaps, unintentionally. Draco squeezed his eyes shut as his mother tried to intervene. "Not tonight," Narcissa said firmly, though there was a distinct tone of desperation in her voice.

"Narcissa, this is none of your-" Lucius began, only to be interrupted by his wife.

"I need to have a word with you, dear. You can finish this in the morning, after we've spoken." Realizing fully that she was on a thin line between calming Lucius and simply making him angrier, she quickly added a "Please."

Lucius's grip on his son hadn't loosened. He watched Narcissa for several long moments before standing up straight and motioning Draco away. Harry found himself releasing a breath he was unaware he had been holding. "To your room, Draco; out of my sight."

The disappointment in those words seemed to hurt Draco worse than any physical violence might have. He made no move to leave the room at first, prompting Lucius to take his arm again. "You behavior tonight has been bad enough, Draco. Don't disobey me again." He shoved his son back forcefully, causing Draco to stumble before he turned and fled.

Though the conversation between Lucius and Narcissa might have been considerably more worthwhile, Harry found himself rushing after Draco. He made it into the room just as the door closed. The lights were out but Draco made no move to change this. There was no need. The drapes were pulled back and the moonlight cut a line through the room and to the door Draco had slumped back against. He stayed like that for several long moments. The occasional, shouted word or sentence fragment would find its way down the hallway and into Draco's room. Narcissa's voice carried just as well as her husband's.

"He… scared. Don't… so hard on him."

"… inexcusable. If the Dark Lord was still… Draco had just better hope that… and he'll deserve it. I won't protect him. "

"You don't mean that."

"… your fault for sheltering him… pathetic."

Draco stepped away from the door quickly, pulling his robes over his head as he crossed the room. He laid them out on the bed and climbed onto the mattress, beside the article of clothing. Harry felt useless as he watched the young boy press his face against the pillow as if to try and hide the fact that he was crying. Harry found himself urged to comfort him but, of course, unable to do so. After this he was unsure he wanted to watch any more of those memories. Some things seemed to go best unknown and this would likely bother him far longer than anything from a past, one that wasn't even his own, should.

Harry shifted his weight and took a step forward, toward the bed. His foot never connected with the floor, however, and Harry suddenly found himself falling into darkness. He expected to find himself back in the bedroom, outside of this device and back in the present. Instead he discovered only another swirl of silver and found himself being pulled into a memory stored inside the Penseive itself. Harry didn't fight it. Curiosity had gotten the best of him once again.

There was suddenly solid ground beneath him, but still no light. He adjusted his glasses and squinted, trying to sort out whether something had gone wrong. It wasn't long before he heard something he could only identify as moaning, followed by the occasional gasp. Harry could make out very faint light before him, but it seemed obscured by something. He reached out in front of himself, and settled his hand through what appeared to be thin, yet almost completely opaque, gauze-like fabric. It was only as he stepped forward and through the cloth, that he realized what all this moaning in the dark must mean. By the time it had struck him, it was too late.

The room was lit only by several candles, which floated a safe distance from the fabrics draped from the ceiling. A large bed was hidden in the center and probably would have remained out of Harry's sight had he not stepped forward. Unfortunately he had, and the thought of looking away hadn't quite struck him yet.

Blaise Zabini was on his knees. One of his arms was around Draco's waist and the other across his chest, keeping the other close. Their clothes were scattered haphazardly on the floor and how old either of them were at this moment in time escaped Harry. Neither looked particularly inexperienced. There was no youthful awkwardness as Blaise kept up a fast and forceful rhythm. From Draco's satisfied reaction, it seemed he was no stranger to this either.

Blaise's hands slid downward, holding Draco still as he thrust deeper. Try as he might, Harry simply couldn't look away. It was all so surreal; Draco's pale, lithe body wrapped and contrasted by Blaise's much darker and taller frame. A familiar creature suddenly woke within Harry, fueling more anger than disgust. Still, he only stared, his anger confusing him more than his inability to avert his eyes.

Suddenly, Draco cried out in both pain and pleasure, opening his eyes as he climaxed. Blaise gasped, his arms loosening around Draco as he came as well. The handsome Slytherin watched as Draco slumped forward, exhausted. He did the same, dropping onto the bed beside him.

Harry slowly began to come to his senses as the other two laid in silence, catching their breath. He was desperately trying to put together what he had just seen. Pansy had always fawned over Draco. It had occurred to Harry more than once that some of his classmates had been sexually active. Like much about Malfoy, he had never given the other's sex life much thought, but a relationship with Pansy would have been his first guess. It would have never occurred to him that Draco even had an interest in other boys.

"That's it," Blaise managed at last, sitting up.

Malfoy opened his eyes with feigned indifference. "For tonight?"

"For good," Blaise muttered, gathering his clothes up off the floor quite casually. He seemed to be in no hurry to cover his nudity and it was causing Harry to feel increasingly more uncomfortable, yet still unable to tear his eyes away.

"Should I have a word with your mother then?" Malfoy smirked, propping himself up in bed and prompting a warning glare from Blaise.

"Go ahead, I probably need to have a few words with your father as well," he countered, his tone very calm.

That seemed to be enough for Draco, who groaned and leaned back again. "I guess I lost my leverage, huh?"

"You can find someone else. I don't care who, it just won't be me."

Malfoy watched Blaise as the other pulled his trousers on. The blonde relaxing on the bed appeared to be thinking, likely trying to come up with a reason for Blaise to stay where he was. "Once more tonight then?"

"I'm not a ponce," Blaise muttered, reaching for his shirt, which Draco was quick to snatch up first.

"Right, that's what got you into this mess in the first place." Malfoy dodged Blaise as he made a grab for his shirt. "And why we spent the last thirty minutes-"

Blaise was losing his patience. He climbed back onto the bed, leaning across the mattress and grabbing Draco by the shoulder to keep his still. "You know why-"

"Don't give me that." Malfoy shoved the shirt to the boy in front of him, shrugging out of his grasp. "You could have ended this weeks ago. Why now? At least admit you liked it."

Draco's words left Blaise without any response for a little too long. At last he shrugged his shoulders, keeping his cool. "It felt good. I didn't see any reason to stop."

Another smirk tugged at Draco's lips, and he lounged back in bed again, his cold gray eye more calculating than ever as he watched Blaise. "Then at least stay till morning. There aren't any classes tomorrow. We'll just leave early and go to the Great Hall. We've done that twice. No one will notice. You brought clothes to change into, right?"

Blaise still didn't put his shirt on just yet. It suddenly occurred to Harry that this might be why Blaise had never quite been one of Malfoy's "followers". They had mentioned classes and Draco's father. Malfoy only appeared a little younger than he did back in the present. He certainly wasn't as terribly thin and was much more attractive for it. Harry felt his face flush as he found his eyes wandering over a body that was more than satisfactory for a teenage boy his age.

This wasn't the sicklier Draco he remembered from his sixth year. That thought set Harry's mind into gear. This had to be the Room of Requirement and in that case, this memory took place during their fifth year at Hogwarts.

"I haven't been thinking of you," Blaise said at last, climbing back into bed.

Relief was apparent on Draco's face, though only shortly. He didn't bother to move over as Blaise laid down beside him. "That's fine. You haven't exactly been on my mind either."

"Pansy would probably do this willingly, you know," Blaise said, not fighting Draco as the other began to unbutton his trousers.

Draco rolled his eyes, not even gracing that with a real response. "She's all right." He slid the last of Blaise's clothing off completely and tossed it aside. "One more time then?"

Harry felt his breath catch and his pulse quicken. He took a step closer just in time to see Blaise smile charmingly. "I'm on top." Unsure of what he was doing, Harry took another step closer as Blaise moved over his classmate and pinned him down against the mattress. Harry took a sharp breath and another step closer. The bed only seemed to move further away. The room itself became distant as did the bodies of his classmates, intertwined on the bed once more.

"Wait, no!" Harry reached out to catch hold of something more secure but suddenly realized that he was sitting and that someone had pulled him back by the collar of his shirt.

"What the hell were you doing?" Ron's voice brought back the sobriety that had eluded Harry for the last few minutes. He looked around, recognizing his surroundings as the present. The Penseive lay before him on the floor and Draco was sitting up in bed, listening intently. It appeared he had been awake for a while but hadn't realized until now that someone was in the room. Understandably, this made him uneasy and Harry only more so.

"Harry?" Ron had gotten to his feet and offered a hand down to his friend. He no longer seemed interested in what Harry had been watching. "Are you hungry? Come on."

Harry rose shakily, his entire body tensing as he heard Malfoy speak. "Potter?" Apprehension was in those words, as if he already had his suspicions.

Anything Harry might have said was lost to even him. There was a great deal to be said and yet no will to speak any of it. His mind was still spinning as he ignored Malfoy and followed Ron out the bedroom door.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I know, I know, it's been a while. I apologize for how long it took, but I've been redoing past chapters. Clara Minutes, of Perfect Imagination, did an awesome job pointing out the mistakes I missed. It just took a while to get along to this chapter, since I was sending the installments in order. I just thought I would give everyone the heads up before I start replacing chapters. If you have this story on "Alert", you might be getting e-mails like crazy this week.

This chapter is dedicated to Blonde Dragon. She's was my beta through Chapter Seven, and did an awesome job.

Chapter Nine 

Harry wasn't sure what to do with the information the Pensieve had divulged. Aside from the quick departure Lupin had advised, he certainly had no intention of discussing what he had seen. Ron was at a loss. He clearly knew that something was bothering both of his friends and yet no amount of coaxing would convince either of them to talk. The night had gone on in silence. Hermione rummaged through shelf after shelf of thickly bound books. She jotted down the occasional note on parchment, employing Harry to sort out volumes into varying degrees of usefulness. Harry usually wasn't a fan of busy work but, right now, was quite thankful for it.

The only clock in the room appeared to be broken; a victim of a previous raid, it seemed. Without windows, there was no way of telling how much time had elapsed. Ron seemed to be getting progressively more bored, though. Occasionally he would catch the bored youth flipping through pages of a book and, once, stuffing a small, yet quite ornate, chess set into bag. If Hermione had seen, she didn't say anything. Harry didn't see the harm in it. There were a great deal of things around the household, more than anyone would miss. There was certainly more than the one remaining member of the Malfoy family could have any use for. The silence was only broken when Hermione closed the book before her and looked up to Harry.

"How was Malfoy?"

These words caught Harry offguard. It seemed that Hermione had collected her thoughts; though, the question was more than a little late. "Fine," Harry managed, after a moment of slightly confused silence. "Last time I checked, I mean."

"You don't think someone should check?" Hermione placed the book she had been reading on top of a nearby pile and stood.

Harry felt his heart begin to race. Draco was the last person he wanted to see right now and, inevitably, he spoke before he could think, "Why don't you go?"

"Because I haven't had anything to eat yet," Hermione said, slightly affronted. "Unlike you and Ron, I've been working this entire time."

There wasn't any arguing that. Harry hadn't been in the library nearly as long as Hermione and he had already eaten. That didn't mean he wanted to go back upstairs. "Can't Ron go?"

Hermione glanced over to one the far tables where Ron was slumped over a book and snoring rather noisily. "If you want to wake him up. Just go upstairs and see if he's all right, Harry. See if he wants anything to eat, too." She headed towards the door but paused. "It was your idea to bring him, you know." Her words weren't angry, just a reminder, and one that Harry found difficult to ignore. He sat back down as Hermione left and, for the first time since coming back downstairs, tried to sort out everything he had seen.

Did the images from the Pensieve really change anything? What he had seen had happened at least a year ago. The Draco upstairs was the same one he had insisted on bringing along the previous night. He was still the same obnoxious, ungrateful Malfoy he had gone to school with. Regardless of what Harry told himself, what he had seen bothered him. The sight of Draco in the Room of Requirement haunted him. He still saw Blaise, frustrated with the situation, yet obviously finding enjoyment in "the act".

Harry forced these thoughts, and others, from his mind. Eventually, he would have to be around Draco again, and someone did need to check on him tonight. Reluctantly, Harry rose from his seat and headed down the hall. He took his time climbing the stairs, counting them absently as he went. Perhaps there was no real reason to worry. Maybe Malfoy _was_ asleep. He had been sleeping a lot lately; that could be the case now. The low sound of someone complaining to themself told Harry otherwise. With a deep breath, he went to the door and peered in.

It seemed that Draco had found the Pensieve on the floor. It probably hadn't taken him much guessing to realize what it was Harry had been doing earlier, and it went without saying that he would be angry. Harry considered slipping back downstairs now. If Draco was up and about, clearly he was fine.

It was a bit more cursing from Malfoy that prompted him to take pause. Suddenly, Harry realized that it wasn't the fact that the Pensieve was out that was troubling Draco. It appeared that one or two of the bottles nearby had shattered. The blonde seated on the ground was doing his best to gather the remaining containers. His right hand was pressed to his chest as he did so, and Harry couldn't help but notice that it appeared to be bleeding.

"Malfoy." Harry forgot his hesitance and entered the room, going to kneel down beside him. "What did you do?"

Draco had jumped slightly upon hearing a voice near the doorway. Harry knew he was still having a difficult time finding a new way to perceive the world around him. This was completely understandable. Harry wouldn't like to have someone sneak up on him either, and he probably could have done a better job of making himself known rather than quietly making his way to the door.

Harry reached for Malfoy's hand without thinking. No sooner had his fingertips come into contact when the other pulled away. "I should be asking you the same thing," he snapped, and Harry immediately remembered what it was he had been trying so hard to forget.

Harry was quick to respond, "I didn't take the Pensieve out, Hermione did." It wasn't a complete lie; but he hoped Draco wouldn't think to question him further.

"Did you watch any of these, Potter?" Malfoy demanded, indicating the general direction of the bottles. Even with his eyes bandaged, he was clearly angry with Harry. It seemed that he wouldn't trust Harry should he deny the obvious.

"One." The second memory had already been inside the Pensieve. It was a stretch, but not technically a lie. He attempted to change the subject immediately after answering, should his last response prompt further questioning. "Let me see your hand."

This seemed to work, at least momentarily. "What? Why?" Malfoy asked suspiciously, pulling a little further away.

"Because, you're bleeding." Harry did his best to sound annoyed. He would much sooner fight with Malfoy than explain what had happened to him.

"It's _your _fault," Draco muttered, holding out his injured hand, grudgingly.

"_You _should have been more careful." Harry caught the other's hand before he could pull it away. Malfoy's trust towards him only extended so far, and this was already pushing it. Draco might not have had much of a choice in the matter before, when he had been so weakened. Now that he was well there really wasn't much that Harry could do should Draco decide that he didn't want the help.

"It isn't so bad," Harry commented, standing as he spoke. "Where's the nearest sink?"

"There's a bathroom on this floor, down the hall." Malfoy stood as Harry tugged him upwards. "What, exactly, did you watch?"

This would be significantly more difficult for Harry to talk his way out of. He tried to work around the proper words as he carefully led Draco around the mess on the floor and out into the hall. "I don't know; you were a kid." He attempted to leave matters at that again.

"Potter-"

"You know your own memories better than I do. What does it matter?" Harry stopped at the end of the hall and looked around. "Which room?"

"It wasn't any of your business!" Malfoy wasn't so willing to simply let this go. "You had no right to go through my things like that, much less watch my memories!"

Normally, Harry would have argued with Draco. This time there wasn't much Harry could say to defend himself. "I thought I might be able to find something that would help us."

"What could you possibly have found?" Malfoy tried to pull his hand away but Harry tightened his hold around the other's wrist.

"I'm sorry!" Harry said quickly, before anything could escalate. "It won't happen again, I swear. I didn't see anything important anyway." There were many senses of the word "important". It certainly hadn't been imperative to any Horcrux-related issues at hand.

Malfoy's expression didn't betray much forgiveness. He didn't try to pull away again, however and merely motioned to his left. "The door should be there."

"I really didn't mean anything by it, I-" Harry cut himself off as he opened the bathroom door. "Was all this really necessary?" The room was reminiscent of the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts. The rectangular tub was only marginally smaller than the one Harry remembered, and the room was a darker shade of marble. All the same, it was quite impressive and Draco's mood seemed to brighten slightly.

"You're just used to the Weasel's little hovel." He smirked. "I would imagine the living conditions of your own home weren't much better."

Harry decided against pointing out that soon Draco's home wouldn't belong to the Malfoys. Instead of instigating another argument, Harry led Draco to the bathtub, the edge of which made more than an adequate seat for both of them. "Wait here." Harry went to a closet, which was already open, likely having been rummaged through by the Ministry already. The towels inside still looked clean. Harry grabbed one, and dampened the end in the sink before returning to Draco's side. "Let me see your hand again."

Draco did as he was asked, still seeming a bit reluctant. He wasn't used to this sort of dependence, and Harry doubted that he would ever be. Though, Malfoy would undoubtedly resent any sort of his pity, Harry still couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. He seemed so lost and in his own home. A pained hiss of surprise from Draco brought him back to the work at hand. "Be careful, Potter."

"Hmm? Oh, sorry." Harry squinted, doing his best to settle his fingers around the smaller shards of crystal left in Draco's palm. He didn't hold back a smile as he saw the other boy's slightly nervous demeanor. "Well, if you would rather do it yourself…"

"Just hurry." Malfoy sounded anxious and certainly not amused.

"Or I could get Hermione. I'm sure she would know some spell to-"

"Potter!"

"Relax, I'm finished." Harry wiped a small amount of blood from Draco's palm before simply handing the towel to him. "You'll live. Trying to go ahead and heal it probably wouldn't do much good, huh?"

Pressing the dry end of the towel to his palm, Malfoy raised his head, as if to look at Harry. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I guess I could let you heal yourself, but giving you your wand back doesn't seem like a good idea. " Harry paused, suddenly realizing that there hadn't been any discussion of what he had discovered on Malfoy's arm. "The Dark Mark." He noted how Draco stiffened. "It kept anyone from healing you before. You know…that really wasn't a good idea…"

"It wasn't exactly optional." Draco tugged at his sleeve, his mind clearly wandering to the mark on his forearm. "And it works out for…You-Know-Who. None of us are really of any use to him in, well, this sort of situation."

Harry rolled his eyes "How much of a use to him could you really be?" He hadn't meant this as an insult but, clearly, Draco was offended. "Well, do you want to go back?" Malfoy seemed reluctant to admit that he actually preferred being with Harry, but shook his head anyway. "Well, that it th-" Suddenly, Harry couldn't help but wonder what other magic had been interwoven into the Dark Mark. "_Could _Voldemort find you?"

It was difficult to tell whether Draco had cringed at the name or the question itself. Either way he shook his head again and shrugged. "I don't know," he said quietly, his tone suddenly a bit too serious to offer Harry much comfort. "Probably."

Harry had another truth to add to the growing list of cons of his "decision". If Voldemort had someone inside the Ministry, it wouldn't take him long to realize that one of his servants was currently traveling with the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry didn't care to count the ways in which Voldemort could use this information to his advantage. Of course, changing his mind now meant leaving Draco with the Ministry or alone and on his own….

"Don't tell Ron or Hermione," Harry said at last, his own tone quiet and a little hesitant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy's indifferent expression change to one of mild surprise. Before Harry could cover for himself, a shout echoed up the stairs.

"Harry! Get down here!"

The voice had belonged to Hermione and her words had been rushed. Harry's thoughts immediately shifted to Lupin's words. What if the Ministry had found them already? Harry was on his feet and nearly out the door when someone restrained him.

"Wait for me, Potter," Draco ordered, his left hand closing rather awkwardly around Harry's sleeve, the towel still clutched in his right.

Harry had little time to argue. Malfoy managed to both stay close and keep his guide's pace. All the same, Harry was very relieved to find Hermione at the end of the hallway. The thought of rushing down the stairs with a blind Malfoy in tow hadn't exactly been appealing.

"What is it?" Harry stopped, and Draco took a few extra steps forward before doing the same. "Where's Ron?"

"At the window." Hermione cast a nervous glance down the stairs. She looked a little troubled, but not as worried as she would have been had it been the Ministry on their way. "There's someone here. They're wandering around out front.."

"Just one person?" Harry's mind was racing with possible explanations and it was difficult to read Draco's expression from where he stood.

Hermione began to lead the way down the stairs, keeping her pace a little slower than she might have had Malfoy not been there. "I saw two lights. They didn't seem to be in any hurry."

The lamps were extinguished downstairs. Hermione went through a door Harry hadn't entered. It was difficult to tell much about the room in the darkness. He could just make out someone crouched at one of the far corners of the room, and immediately gathered that this was Ron. He looked up as they came closer, letting the curtain at the window fall back into place.

"Well?" Harry asked, keeping his voice unintentionally low.

"You don't have to whisper, they're gone." Ron stepped back from the window as light came forth form the tip of Hermione's wand.

Harry went to the window himself. "Gone? What, they just came and left?"

"Well-" Ron's expression darkened as he noticed Malfoy had come to join them this time. "They didn't actually 'leave'."

Clearly Malfoy didn't need his vision to inform him of Ron's resentment. "I think that's generally the definition of 'gone'."

"What I meant was-" Ron raised his voice, glowering past Harry to Draco. "-they're not out front anymore. They went around the side of the house. I don't think they were looking for a way in. They were just carrying something into the woods."

"We should see where they're going," Harry said resolutely, prompting a poorly concealed laugh from Malfoy. "What?" Harry asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"Oh, nothing Potter - just in wonder of that infallible reasoning of yours." Malfoy's free hand settled on the back of a nearby wingback chair. He released Harry's arm and felt his way over to take a seat.

"One of you needs to stay here with Malfoy," Harry continued, choosing to ignore any further interruptions from the nearby Slytherin.

Harry had been correct in assuming that there would be further interruptions. "I'm not a child, you know."

"I'm not staying with him," Ron grumbled quickly.

"Neither of you know where you're going," Hermione pointed out. "This isn't like the Hogwarts grounds. We don't know our way around here. We don't have the advantage."

"And what does that have to do with-" Ron cut himself off, suddenly frowning at Hermione. "Oh no, I'm not going with _him."_

"I wouldn't worry about that, Weaslebee, I don't plan on going anywhere. It's cold out. I have better things to do than to go traipsing after two complete strangers, who probably _are _from the Ministry, and who may or may not be armed." Malfoy leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable.

It was Hermione who interjected before Ron could come up with any particularly scathing response. "Well, all of us can't go. Harry, if you insist on going, you should take Malfoy with you."

Harry was surprised by that suggestion. He was about to object when Malfoy beat him to it. "I thought I said I wasn't going."

"You did," Hermione said, addressing Draco quickly so as to leave little room for further argument. "But this is your home, isn't it? Surely you want to know what's going on."

Harry couldn't help but be vaguely amused by his friend's words. Was she trying to manipulate him? Malfoy seemed to come to the same conclusion, and Hermione abruptly switched tactics. "Please, it would help all of us. We need to stay one step ahead the Ministry. If those people are-"

"I'm not going with Ron," Malfoy cut Hermione off and stood, keeping one hand to the back of the chair. "This was Harry's idea, he's coming too."

There was little time for bargaining. "Fine, take Ron's coat. Harry, it's near the entrance."

Hermione's suggestion got an immediate rise from Malfoy. "I'm not going to wear th-"

"Well, no one-"

"Will the both of you get going!" Hermione cut both Malfoy and Ron off, taking the latter by the arm and leading him back to the window.

Harry was quick to lead Malfoy away as well, taking him by the hand without much thought. A hiss of pain and a complaint from Draco reminded him that this was the hand he had cut earlier. "Sorry." He resituated his grip, grasping Malfoy's wrist instead. He heard the other's footsteps falter at first but Draco managed to keep up.

True to Hermione's word, Ron's coat was strewn, haphazardly, over a decorative table near the entrance. "Put this on." He handed the coat back to Malfoy, who took a moment to determine which arm was which before pulling it on. Of course, he did so more than a little grudgingly. Even he appeared to understand that time just didn't permit much hesitation at the moment. Instead he simply wrinkled his nose as if the garment itself offended him.

"Come on," Harry said, only shaking his head and drawing his wand. _"Lumos." _He felt Draco take hold of his free arm as he led the way out into the darkness. As Malfoy had predicted, it was cold. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any snow; though, the soft crunching sound their footsteps made told him there was at least a thin layer coating the ground. And if there was snow…

"What is it?" Malfoy grumbled impatiently. Harry wasn't making much progress in either direction.

"Shh," Harry hissed, taking a few tentative steps forward. "I'm looking for footprints. If it hasn't been too long…There." Two sets of footprints were visible only a few yards away.

"And where do they lead?" Malfoy sounded genuinely interested this time. Whether she had been attempting to manipulate him or not, Hermione had made at least one valid point.

"To the left – that is, to your left if you were facing the house." Harry attempted to explain the direction in which they were headed as he led Malfoy on. He kept his voice low and his steps cautious should the "intruders" not be quite as far away as they had originally thought. "Is there anything in this direction?"

"I don't know, Potter. 'To the left' is a little vague." Malfoy seemed to be mulling something over, though. Harry didn't bother to question him further, merely concentrating on where the footprints before them led. He would have his own answers soon enough.

Eventually, the footprints faded away. The nearby trees had sheltered the ground from snowfall, and Harry was certainly not very experienced in tracking. "No," Harry groaned, coming to an abrupt stop.

"What?" Malfoy sounded equally frustrated; Harry's sudden stop had nearly caused him to run into the other.

"There's nothing to follow anymore," Harry whispered, looking about carefully for a distant light or something of the sort. There was nothing to be seen in the distance but darkness. This was partially due to a grouping of trees ahead that kept him from seeing too far in the direction the footsteps had been headed in.

"Are there a lot of trees nearby?"

Malfoy's question had taken Harry by surprise. He nodded, remembered Malfoy couldn't see this, and spoke up, "Yeah, do you know where we are?"

Draco took only a moment to consider this. "Do you see a path anywhere?"

"Ah-" Harry held his wand forward and squinted into the darkness around them again. "In which direction."

"How should I know! You still have eyes, use them." As soon as Malfoy had spoken, Harry's gaze settled on a gravel path a short distance away. He rushed in that direction, and could only hope that they hadn't wasted too much time.

When it became evident that wherever this path led it was some distance from the house, Harry glanced back to Malfoy. The blonde gripping his arm didn't seem particularly concerned with how much time this was taking, prompting Harry to speak up, quietly, "How much land did your family have, Malfoy?"

It seemed that this had been the wrong choice of words. "_Did_? I don't think the Ministry's quite-"

"You know what I meant," Harry whispered, cutting Draco off impatiently.

"Enough," Malfoy said shortly. He still seemed slightly affronted by such a bold question. "Besides, you wouldn't want it any closer to the house."

"What?" A sudden glimpse of light silenced Harry. He ducked down behind a shrub and prayed the dying foliage was enough cover. _"Nox."_

"Do you see anyone?" Draco whispered, so close to Harry that he need no longer hold onto his arm.

"Sort of." Harry got to his feet and began to creep slowly forward only to feel someone grab him somewhat awkwardly by the shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, a sense of both urgency and nervousness to his voice. Unable to see his surroundings, the last thing he wanted was to be was left alone.

The lights up ahead appeared to be fixed. Harry could vaguely make out the silhouettes of men but little else. He pulled away from Malfoy, jerking from his grasp and moving a little further towards the lights while making sure to keep low. "I'm going to get a better look. You wait here."

"Yeah, right," Malfoy was still reluctant to be left behind. Harry wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't as if he couldn't trust Harry after all that had transpired between them. Just the same, Harry didn't pull from Malfoy this time. Instead he merely put a hand to the other's arm, making sure they were both low enough to go unseen. It was only then that Harry wished he had had the time to grab his Invisibility Cloak. Of course, whoever they were following didn't seem to be much of a threat.

Malfoy's vague responses to Harry's earlier questions began to make sense as he crouched down next to a handsomely crafted, cast-iron gate. A stone monument provided an adequate hiding spot. Peering past headstones, Harry got a good look at the two men they had been following. Neither appeared particularly apprehensive. Both were seated to the left of what looked to be a stone crypt as something proceeded to dig a few feet away. Harry assumed any equipment they had brought along had been charmed to work for them. The men looked a tad too rough to be members of the Ministry and though the two seemed to be speaking freely to one another Harry could hear neither of them from where he was, and he had no intention of trying to get any closer. There was no need. It took very little reasoning to justify their presence.

Harry pulled Malfoy away from the fence and back into the cover of the trees. He wasn't sure quite what this meant but he had a feeling that they should leave tonight. Once they were a considerable distance away, Harry straightened and Malfoy followed suite. "Well, at least we know what they're doing with your parents, right?" Harry hoped Malfoy wouldn't take that the wrong way. To his relief, there was no change in his companion's demeanor.

"They're probably just trying to lure us here, you know. They'll publicize what they did with the bodies," Draco said quietly. "They probably wouldn't expect us immediately, but eventually…"

"You don't know that." Harry wasn't entirely sure of his own words, however, and his voice lacked the resolve needed to be terribly convincing. "It really doesn't matter. We should leave tonight anyway. Lupin said-" Harry caught a look of disgust pass across Malfoy's face. "What did he say to you anyway?"

"Nothing worthwhile." Oddly enough, it sounded as if Malfoy was actually speaking the truth, and though Harry would just as soon hear the details, something else caught his attention.

"Your hand."

Of all the directions this conversation could have taken, this seemed to catch Malfoy off guard. "What?"

"Your right hand," Harry stopped walking, but was quick to pull Draco away from the main path, should the men he'd been spying on finish their digging early. "Your right hand. You're holding my arm with you right hand."

Harry was met only with a baffled sort of silence at first. At last, Malfoy only shook his head in disbelief. "Good, Potter," he drawled sarcastically, holding up his free hand. "And this is my left."

"No you idi-" Harry gave an exasperated groan and looked around cautiously. He drew his wand, but moved further away from the path before speaking a hasty, "_Lumos." _By this time, Draco had released his arm and Harry wasted little time in snatching the other by the wrist. He held his wand close, getting a good look at Draco's palm. There was no longer any sign that he had cut himself at all. A little like the wounds on Malfoy's chest, it seemed the cuts here had simply healed themselves in quite a comparatively small window of time. "Did-did you find your wand? Did you heal yourself while I wasn't looking or something?"

"You've been with me since I cut my hand." The sarcasm had faded from Malfoy's voice. "The last time I had a wand, you caught me. Yours wasn't very cooperative anyway. What's the problem? You said it wouldn't take long to heal."

"I really meant more in the terms of a couple of days." Harry released Malfoy's hand. "Did you heal yourself before, when-nevermind." Harry merely began to lead the way back towards the house. He had a feeling that the answer to this question would be very similar to his last. He felt the other take his sleeve and by the time the house was in sight again, he heard him whisper.

"So…is this a bad thing?" Malfoy didn't sound as if he was asking Harry in particular, simply trying to sort this all out for himself. A lot had happened over the last few days.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, stopping short of the front stairs. "Just don't tell anyone about this."

The wind began to pick up, and though it was growing colder, neither of the boys made any move to go inside. "Well I hadn't exactly planned to strike up any conversation with those two but, does it really matter?"

"No," Harry answered quickly. "I mean, it does. They might overreact and think-look, I might talk with Hermione later. We just have bigger things to worry about right now, that's all… You don't think it could be the Dark Mark, do you?"

"I would think the Ministry would be having a lot more trouble with the battles if that was the case." Malfoy sounded as frustrated as Harry was feeling. There were so many unanswered questions.

Harry switched his wand to his left hand and took Draco's arm in his right. He felt the teen tense but was relieved when he didn't question his motives. Harry pushed back the cuff of the jacket, then did the same with Malfoy's sleeve. The mark on his forearm seemed almost a fraction darker, but Harry dismissed this as a trick of the light.

Many things were running through Harry's mind as he traced the mark with his fingertips. He thought back to what he had seen in the Pensieve. He hadn't seen the Dark Mark present there. Of course, Malfoy's arms had been the last thing Harry had been paying attention to.

Blaise had been so rough, but Draco had appeared to enjoy the act. When it came right down to it, Harry only really knew the basic mechanics of sexual acts. What little he was versant in came from whispered tales in the Gryffindor common room, and the occasional questionable magazine he found under Dudley's mattress. The subject of either had always been of women, and when a man was involved… Well, it certainly hadn't been like that at any rate.

The Professors had always gone to great lengths trying to keep the boys and girls apart from one another in, what could be construed as, "compromising" situations. Harry had seen, first hand, how difficult the girl's dormitories were to get into. It seemed their superiors hadn't put much thought into the possibility of same-sex relationships.

Harry wondered when Malfoy's relationship with Blaise had begun and if he had been his first. Had Draco tried girls before hand? Blaise had explicitly insisted that he was heterosexual, and though all evidence seemed to point to the contrary, maybe he was. Maybe what Harry had seen had been entirely for pleasure. He was fairly sure that sort of thing happened. Draco could very well be straight. That hypothesis alleviated a surprising amount of stress immediately, and Harry tried his best to cling to the notion.

"Potter?" Harry was snapped out of his train of thought and forced rudely back to the present. "I can't see what you're doing but, could you stop? It's cold and I'd like to get inside. And I'd like my hand back if you don't mind."

It was with a start that Harry realized he was still holding Malfoy's hand in his own. "Ah…yeah." He let go abruptly and waited until Malfoy had taken his arm to climb upstairs and go back inside.

The lights were still all extinguished, leaving Harry with only his wand to rely on. "Ron, Hermione?" he whispered into the darkness, relieved when a softly glowing lantern rounded the corner.

"Well?" Ron raised the lantern to shoulder level, and Harry squinted his eyes against the offending light. It didn't take his vision very long to adjust before he could continue.

"I don't think it's anything to worry about," Harry gave a side-long glance to Malfoy, uncomfortable divulging what he had seen with him present. "We should probably get our things together though, and leave before morning."

Hermione nodded sagely, her face appearing terribly serious in the dim light. "I've been giving that some thought. I think-"

"But who did you see? If it wasn't the Ministry, then who was it?" Ron hadn't paid much mind to Hermione's suggestion, prompting a rather affronted look from her. It seemed he hadn't been satisfied with Harry's poor excuse of an explanation.

Harry glanced to Malfoy again, and was in the process of forming some semblance of a proper answer when Draco released his arm, feeling instead for the wall. Once he had a better sense of where he was, he headed for the stairs. "I'll be in my room," he said irritably, successfully locating the banister.

Harry was about to object, but decided against it. He couldn't help but be a little thankful for the chance to speak freely with his friends. Though he had gotten used to Malfoy's presence among the group, conversing as he would normally was still a little awkward.

Finding a moment to be heard, Hermione quickly spoke up again. "I thought we should try Grimmauld Place," she said quickly, receiving a groan of disapproval from Ron. Harry could sympathize. There were certainly other places that he wanted to be. "That's probably the first place we should start looking for the next Horcrux," Hermione continued, ignoring the quizzical look Ron gave her in response. "The Ministry shouldn't be able to find us there either, so-"

Hermione had fallen silent suddenly, and now took a few hesitant steps toward the staircase. Harry followed her gaze a few yards away, to where Malfoy's tall frame swayed unsteadily. One hand was clutching the banister and the other was pressed to his temple as he bowed his head down. He looked as if he was feeling ill, and Harry was quick to dash in his direction, taking the stairs two at a time as he saw his grip on the banister loosen. "Malfoy?" he called, only just making it upstairs in time to catch the other boy as he fell back.

Harry caught Draco by the shoulders, one leg going to the next step down to brace himself as he nearly fell as well. "Are you all right?" he asked, wrapping one arm around Malfoy's chest and reaching for the banister as he began to lower both of them to sit on the stairs. Harry was baffled. Only moments ago, Draco had been fine, perhaps even better than that. Maybe it had been a mistake to take him out in such cold weather so soon.

"Hmm?" Draco groaned, shaking his head drowsily. It took him a few moments to come to his senses, and even less time to place who's arms were around him. "What are you doing, Potter?" he snapped, pulling away and feeling for the opposite banister. He stood as if nothing had happened, and continued upstairs unfazed.

Harry didn't stand immediately. He was beyond confused, and not sure how to respond to what had just happened. "Are you sure you're-"

"Let him go," Ron grumbled, as Draco disappeared into the hallway. The sound of a door closing met his ears a moment later, setting him slightly at ease. He headed back downstairs, expecting Hermione to come up with some sort of rational explanation for what happened before he even got there. Instead she merely launched back into their last discussion.

"Right, we should be safe there. If no one's taken the locket-"

"What are we talking about!" Ron demanded, voicing his question too loudly for anyone to ignore this time. Harry smiled faintly as Hermione proceeded to articulate a hasty, and somewhat impatient, explanation. Harry already knew what she had to say; his mind was simply elsewhere. The words they were speaking registered as little more than background noise as he took a seat on the bottom most stair.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if there was still something wrong with Malfoy. He was relatively confident that there was enough cowardice in Draco to provoke him to tell them if something was as it shouldn't be. Then again, there was always the chance that it was something they would be wise to leave him behind because of. Harry had long since resolved that the latter simply wasn't an option.

"Harry. Hey, Harry."

Harry looked up as the light of the lantern washed over him. Ron had knelt down to his right, and Hermione was regarding him with apparent concern. Obviously, he had drifted off there for a while. "Sorry, I'm sort of tired."

The excuse Harry formulated, proved explanation enough for his friends. "So, who was it?" Ron asked.

"Huh-oh," Harry sat up a little straighter, realizing that Ron was referring to the people he and Malfoy had discovered outside. "They were digging graves, I think," he said shortly, lowering his voice to little above a whisper without noticing.

"For who?" Ron asked, frowning thoughtfully as Hermione merely shook her head.

"The Malfoys, I would imagine," she said as Ron's frown deepened.

"Why would they go to the trouble?" Ron's attention had fallen on Hermione, for which Harry thankful.

"Appearances, perhaps. It could be to lure Malfoy – oh, speaking of which-" Hermione looked down to Harry, and waved him along as she headed upstairs. "Maybe you should check on him, Harry. The last time you let him wander off on his own, he _did _go missing."

Ron followed Hermione upstairs, shaking his head in both surprise and exasperation. "He went missing?"

"Really, Ron, pay attention!"

Harry brushed past Hermione as she chided Ron. He had forgotten about that. He should probably at least make sure that he had found his room safely.

Several moments later, Harry was backing out of Draco's bedroom, closing the door hastily. Hermione was leaving the adjacent room with a bag when she took notice of her very flushed friend, and heard the tail end of a particularly nasty expletive coming from the other side of the door. "Is he all right?"

Harry nodded, adjusting his glasses, and heading back down the hall. "Blind or not, I think Malfoy's still capable of changing clothes on his own."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So, just where have I been? Well, it's a little void called waitressing. Yes, that's right. During my absence I was making lousy tips, on my feet 9+ hours at a time (without breaks, people), and generally finding new ways to piss people off in the horrifying world of food service. Now I'm a free woman. The first thing I got around to was getting this chapter out. I apologize for taking so long and can only offer you this advice, never _EVER_ take a job as a food server.

Again, much thanks to my very speedy beta, Clara Minutes.

Chapter Ten

Number Twelve Grimmauld place looked as grimy and desolate as it had been the first time Harry had laid eyes on it. It led him to wonder if there wasn't some sort of curse over the place. One pertaining to dirt and filth and the general aura of gloom that washed over its visitors as they forced the door open and did their best to make themselves at home. It was this initial malaise that left him ill-prepared for what they found inside.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks slapped him on the back as he and the others trudged their way into the drawing room.

Kreacher seemed to still be at Hogwarts, for which Harry was particularly thankful as he noted the cheery lighting in the room. Each lamp burned soft and steady, making even a place like this feel much more cozy than it had any right to be.

"What's all this then?" Ron was the first to form any sort of response. Some refreshments had been arranged on the table and, from where he stood, Harry was sure he smelled the sweet scent of butterbeer.

Tonks frowned when it became clear that no one planned on returning her initial cheer. "I just thought you lot could use a break. Of course, if you don't want me around… "

"It's not that," Hermione said quickly, managing a puzzled sort of smile as she carried her bag over to the sofa and sat it down. "I'm just… surprised you had the time for something like this."

"Well, the Death Eaters have retreated for the time being and what with all of you being nearby – Tomorrow I'll have to be back at the base." Tonks went to the table, busying herself with filling a hot mug of butterbeer. She did seem to be in better spirits. Harry was pleased to note that her hair was more vibrant than ever, canary-yellow in the lamplight.

"So it was Lupin who told you we would be here?" Harry asked, not entirely against a night to just relax. Even Hermione looked as if she was enjoying the prospect as she accepted the warm mug offered to her.

Tonks pressed a cautionary finger to her lips but gave Harry a knowing smile. "You'll all be perfectly safe here for the time being. You can worry about where to go tomorrow. Maybe I can even talk it over with you before I have to leave. In the meantime-"

The room fell silent and faced Hermione as she choked on her butterbeer and held the mug at a distance as an expression of mild alarm came across her face. "Tonks, I don't think this is…"

For a moment Nymphadora looked puzzled, but a sheepish smile came across her face as she took the mug back from Hermione. "Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten where I brought this from." She took a sip from the mug and her smile widened. "No, I'm not sure you would want this."

"I wouldn't say that yet. Let me taste it." Ron took a mug and filled it a little too eagerly.

Hermione shot him a dirty look, which he only ignored. "Ron, really. What would your mother say?"

"Well," Ron began, taking a drink from the mug, coughing, then taking another, "nothing, because mum's not here. Want some Harry?"

Harry wasn't quite as eager as Ron, but he _was_ curious. Just the same he looked to Tonks first. "Can we?"

Tonks looked a bit torn, clearly not keen on the role of responsible guardian. Harry watched as she seemed to mentally tally up the pros and cons of potentially getting a handful of teenagers drunk. They _were_ close to the drinking age. "Not too much. If you're old enough to strike it out on your own like this, I suppose you're old enough to have a drink or two… But too young for me to have to give out cures for a hangover in the morning!" she added the last bit as she spotted Ron refilling his mug.

Harry tried not to laugh as he crossed the room. He had actually become a little used to the hand on his arm. Malfoy kept pace with him as he led the way to the sofa. He said nothing, but Harry could tell he wasn't exactly pleased with their guest. At the moment, he was oddly silent. Harry wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish, but then again, he hadn't understood Draco a lot lately.

If Malfoy wanted to be left alone, Tonks wasn't helping matters. She poured several more mugs of butterbeer, looking surprisingly cheerful under the circumstances. "So, Malfoy, you seem to be feeling better."

Hermione passed on the butterbeer, and Harry accepted it instead. "I'm feeling fine," Malfoy said grudgingly, jerking slightly as Harry took his hand. He relaxed somewhat when he realized he was only being handed a mug.

"All of his injuries have healed completely. It's really quite amazing," Hermione said, still frowning at Ron, who was looking as if he was seriously contemplating having another refill once he had finished what was in his hands.

"Your eyes are still bandaged though," Tonks pointed out, settling back in an armchair once she had handed the last mug off to Harry.

When no one said anything, Harry spoke up, "Well, the scars haven't all healed. That'll take more time." Even if magic could be used, it was far too late to heal the scars now. He had a feeling that Draco and the others knew that, but no one said anything more on the subject.

Instead, Tonks slipped her wand from her pocket. "You know," she began, using her free hand to search for something else tucked away somewhere in her clothing, "most Muggles use canes or, ah-"

"A seeing-eye dog," Hermione offered helpfully.

"Right, right, that." Tonks drew her hand back triumphantly, a silver coin held between two fingers. "A dog."

Harry wasn't surprised to hear a slightly offended sniff from Draco, who took a sip of butterbeer rather than responding. He hadn't exactly accepted the fact that he had a handicap yet, much less given much thought towards the matter of compensating for it.

"I thought as much. Well, I didn't have time to get everyone a little something special, but you might appreciate this-_Refero Sanus_." She flicked her wand at the coin then tucked her wand away. Harry squinted, but still saw nothing remarkable about the glint of silver Tonks palmed before leaning forward in the armchair. "I thought-oh." Tonks closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to clear it. She quickly placed the coin on the table just next to the refreshments. "Well then, pick it up."

She was speaking to Malfoy and it took him a moment to realize this. "No!" he said quickly, obviously not sure where whatever Tonks had been holding now was, but leaning back on the sofa for good measure anyway.

Harry couldn't blame him. While Tonks hadn't sounded as if holding the item had brought pain, she certainly hadn't seemed comfortable when in contact with the metal. "You pick it up then, Harry."

Hermione beat Harry to the only question on his mind. "What did you do to it?"

"You'll see, pick it up," Tonks urged, her dark eyes twinkling with a mirth Harry could only connect to the sadistic pleasure she was drawing from watching them speculate over the baneful nature of a simple coin. Surely she wouldn't put them in any real harm; though, he was expecting something along the lines of a nasty electrical shock as he picked it up.

Nothing happened. The coin laid in his palm looking as extraordinary as any piece of pocket change can look. He wasn't sure why, but he was the tiniest bit disappointed.

Ron put down his butterbeer long enough to lean forward and get a good look at the coin. When nothing continued to happen he glanced back to Tonks. "Well?"

Harry nearly dropped the coin as the words left Ron's mouth, and quickly spidered their way across the room. The lines they made were invisible, which was one of the many things that was causing Harry's head to spin. The sound traced the table and the plates and bowls sitting there. It outlined the sofa and Hermione and the lounging shape of Tonks in vibrations and noise. This all happened very quickly, yet Harry still had the presence of mind to set the coin down before Ron could say anything else.

"What happened?" he asked eagerly, leaving Harry at a loss for words.

"I don't know," he managed at last. The only thing he could really compare it to was having someone sit behind you and quote a movie as you're in the process of watching it on screen. He wasn't sure that would be helpful.

Hermione picked the coin up when neither Tonks nor Harry attempted to explain. The creak the loveseat made as she settled back down on the cushions seemed to be noise enough to generate the desired effect. "That's interesting." She closed her eyes this time.

"What is it?" Ron was getting impatient now and Harry noticed that Malfoy was leaning forward slightly, sitting a bit straighter.

"It's sort of like… echolocation…?" Hermione glanced to Tonks, who only shrugged and charmed a second coin.

"Here, Malfoy, try it." Tonks handed the second coin to Harry, who quickly passed it on to Draco.

Hermione had since passed the coin to Ron, who, upon realizing what it was the coin did stood from the loveseat. "I don't see how anyone could get used to this," Ron said, closing his eyes and taking a hesitant step forward.

"I never said it wouldn't take practice." Tonks shrugged. "I just thought it would be a nice alternative."

"Now what is it that uses echolocation?" Ron asked, having gained a bit more confidence as he traversed around the room with his eyes closed. "Bats right? Rodents with wings? Well that suits-" But Ron didn't get a chance to finish the sentence as he tripped over an ottoman.

Harry made no attempt to hide the fact that he was laughing, and was somewhat surprised to find that Draco didn't either. "Impressive, Weasley." He stood then, slipping the coin into his pocket and heading for the stairs. "Now, if it's all the same to the rest of you, I'll skip this little party of yours."

"Careful." Harry started to rise as well. Grimmauld Place wasn't somewhere he would have Malfoy, blind or otherwise, wandering around on his own.

Tonks looked disappointed, but shook her head. "It's okay. Second door on the left; that bedroom should be fine."

Suddenly Harry wasn't quite as at ease as he should have been. He watched Malfoy disappear around the corner and felt the urge to follow. This certainly wasn't a rational urge. Draco had gone upstairs to get away from Ron and the others. A visit from his least favorite of the bunch would surely be unwelcome.

"We came here to see if we couldn't find – Oh, Ron, just get up."

"Tomorrow, Hermione. There'll be time to worry about that in the morning. Ron, are you all right?"

Harry put Malfoy to the back of his mind and tried his best to enjoy the occasion. Tonks kept conversation away from the war and Voldemort. Like the rest of them, Harry was sure she was growing weary of all the chaos as well. Despite their surroundings, Ron and Hermione seemed just as at ease. Of course, through it all Hermione ridiculed Ron for becoming increasingly more intoxicated as Tonks mused aloud that she was, "sure Hermione was old enough to drink legally by now."

When the butterbeer was long since room temperature and the cookies were almost all eaten, they made a fire in the hearth and joked, making pleasant conversation. Harry contributed when he felt it was appropriate, but kept an eye on the clock. Eventually, the conversation died down. Ron fell asleep on the sofa – or passed out, Harry wasn't entirely sure – and Hermione began to drift in and out of a waking state before following suit.

As if knowing exactly what was on his mind, Tonks stood and stretched. "It's okay, Harry. You can go check on him if you want," she said warmly, taking a throw from the back of the chair and, carefully, placing it over Ron and Hermione.

"Thanks." Harry began to go upstairs but, as an afterthought picked a napkin up from the table. "For your help, I mean."

The lanterns cast a hazy green glow over Tonks as she rolled her eyes. "Go on, Harry."

Doing his best to hurry things along, Harry lit the end of his wand and climbed the stairs. _Second door on the left,_ he reminded himself, slipping his wand back into his pocket and knocking lightly on the door before opening it. Malfoy appeared to be pacing inside but stopped either at the sound of the door opening or perhaps as an effect of the odd sort of limited vision the coin allowed.

There were several lamps in the room but none of them were lit and the windows were much too dirty to allow much light. Harry could just make out snowflakes on the other side of the foggy glass pane.

"Potter?" Draco didn't sound as if he was particularly happy to have company.

Harry went inside anyway. "How did you know it was me? The coin Tonks gave you, it isn't that powerful is it?"

"Oh, come on. You're the only one who feels the need to stalk me." Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Malfoy smile faintly as he flicked his wand in the direction of one of the lamps.

"That's better." Harry joined Draco at the window once the room was a bit brighter, if only due to one lonely lamp in the corner. "Why didn't you stay downstairs?"

Malfoy shrugged, taking a step forward and, after getting a feel for his surroundings, sat down on the window seat. "I'm not an idiot, Potter, and neither are you. Your friends don't want me around. I don't know why _you _insist on hanging around me like this. It's not as if I can escape from the second floor, especially without a wand."

That was true enough. Hermione was too polite to say anything negative, but Harry had a feeling she shared Ron's opinion of Malfoy. "I guess but– Did you just say I _wasn't _an idiot?"

Another smile tugged at Draco's lips. It was a bit more obvious this time. Harry sat down beside him. "Right, well I guess I'll take what I can get." He unfolded the napkin he had brought up with him and nudged Malfoy with his elbow. "Are you hungry?"

Malfoy seemed weary of arguing and merely shrugged. "What do you have?"

"No real food, I'm afraid." He handed Draco one of the cookies and bit into the other as he did his best to look out the frosted window. "I'll check the kitchens tomorrow, or count on Ron to find something. If anyone can…" He wondered if Tonks had put some sort of charm on the bedrooms. Though they were sitting near the window, Harry felt no draft. "Well, does the coin work?"

"Hmm?" Malfoy dusted the crumbs from his hands and reached into his pocket to retrieve the coin. "It'll take a while to get used to, I'm sure. I'd sooner just be able to see again."

Harry did his best to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest. "It's still better than nothing. I'm not sure I could see you with a dog… or trust you with a cane."

Draco smirked again. "I'd settle for my wand," he said quietly, knowing Harry was getting tired of hearing about this.

Harry reached into his pocket, finding the wand beside his own. Surprising even himself, he took Malfoy's wrist and placed the wand in his palm. "I just hope you don't plan on using it until you get a hang of that coin."

At a loss for words, Malfoy only closed his hand around the wand and, after a moment, tucked it away for safe-keeping. "Thanks…"

It was the fact that he hadn't had to fish for the thank you that lifted Harry's spirits the most. All too quickly, the feeling changed to one of embarrassment. He busied himself with wadding the napkin in his hands.

"So," Malfoy began, obviously knowing without seeing that things had suddenly become a lot more tense. "Either this means you trust me, or you don't think I'm much of a threat."

"A little bit of both." Harry was quick to bring an end of a very awkward silence. "I think you've realized there isn't anywhere else you can go right now."

"Unfortunately." Malfoy leaned back against the window frame slowly, making sure his back was actually against wood before relaxing. "So did you get the Horcrux?"

Harry realized he had forgotten to so much as take a look on the shelf and see if it was still there. "I should probably go check, huh?"

"Probably," Malfoy agreed, but not without a bit of sarcasm. His bandaged eyes seemed to follow Harry to the door.

Harry heard a draft on the stairs and hesitated once his hand was on the handle. Malfoy had stood, one hand out as if he intended to stop Harry or at the very least say something. "What is it?" Harry asked, looking back just in time to register the look of alarm that came over Malfoy's face.

"Potter, get away from the door!"

There was little time for Harry to register that the draft on the stairs wasn't a draft at all. He stumbled back in alarm just in time to see the door bow inward. He felt Draco grab him awkwardly from behind as whatever was outside continued to press on the door.

Something told Harry his wand wouldn't be much help. As the door burst open, he quickly put his back to the mist-like darkness pouring in. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco as the thing forced its way between them. He felt Malfoy do the same just as he was pulled away.

Harry suddenly felt weightless as he was thrown through the air and against a wall. The darkness was magic, he knew that now. It pressed against him, pinning him firmly several feet above the bed as it began to fill the entire room. He struggled to spot Malfoy, but the wispy, smoke-like energy surrounding him was simply too thick. It began to swirl and form shapes.

The tendrils of magic traced a round face and the crooked bridge of a nose. Lips of smoke twisted in agony and opened impossibly wide as the mouth became a host of robed figures. Harry had a good idea of what was going on, but had little time to place the images as the darkness dissipated and he fell to the mattress with a bounce and a creak of the boxsprings.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Harry sat up quickly and looked about desperately for Draco. He spotted him quickly enough, pulling himself up from the ground with quite a dazed expression. Confident that Malfoy was all right, Harry hurried to the door, intent on checking on his friends.

Ron and Hermione were there first, both looking frightened and breathless. "Harry, come on!" Ron said quickly, pulling Hermione into the adjacent room.

Harry could see from where he stood that there was still residual magic. Following his friends seemed a bit out of the question. Hermione appeared to gather as much and, as a draft-like noise rushed up the stairs again, both slammed their respective doors.

Locking the door, Harry could feel more mist swirling around his ankles. Startled, he made a run for the bed and jumped onto the mattress once more. He was about to call out to Malfoy when he noticed someone was already under the covers. Any joke he could have cracked at this left his thoughts as the remaining mist began to float upwards.

"I thought you would go with your friends," Malfoy said as Harry scrambled beneath the covers as well.

"I've left you behind a lot this week, have I?" Harry heard the door shudder slightly and gripped Malfoy's arm.

Draco didn't pull away. If anything, he moved a little closer. "What the hell was that?"

"I think… Well, we'll see in the morning, won't we?" Though Harry was relatively sure that they were safe now, he doubted he would get much sleep. Instead he simply lay there, listening to the muffled sounds outside of the sheets. When Malfoy asked no more questions, Harry could only assume he was asleep. With a sidelong glance to Draco, he pushed the covers back a bit and looked around the room.

It appeared that the mist had finally stopped. Harry was thankful to be able to kick off the sheets and took a deep breath of the cool air. Sweat dampened his hair and the skin beneath his clothes, which, he noted, consisted of the outfit he had worn that day.

The bleary light creeping in between patches of frost on the window kept the room lit well enough. He could make out Draco's still sleeping form on the mattress beside him and made a point to remain still as he began to unlace his trainers. Kicking both shoes off the bed, he seriously considered removing his shirt.

"You awake, Potter?" Malfoy moaned, kicking off the covers as well and stretching out languidly on the mattress.

Harry wondered if Draco hadn't had his shirt on before but decided not to dwell on it. "I'm awake," he said, removing his own shirt and lying back down. He watched with faint interest as the scars along Malfoy's torso faded and reached out, tracing the now smooth skin with his fingertips.

Stopping one hand at Draco's hip, Harry reached for his face with his free hand. He began to untie the bandages around Malfoy's eyes, curious to see just how far this miraculous healing had gone. "You look good," Harry said, meeting the light gray eyes gazing up at him.

"Of course I do." Malfoy smirked, moving his arm so that Harry could just make out the lack of a Dark Mark. He moved back as Blaise Zabini leaned over the bed and kissed Draco.

Malfoy seemed a little surprised at first, but brought his hands to his former classmate's bare shoulders as he went along with the kiss. It was this that woke a familiar beast within Harry. He slammed sideways into Blaise, shouldering him roughly out of the way. Adrenaline ran through him as he pressed his lips to Draco's instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Blaise's amused expression, but was too caught up in the moment to truly care.

It was difficult to place just why he couldn't pull himself away. His emotions were carnal and passionate and all rather wild. He couldn't think of a thing that mattered more than quenching this sudden longing.

The mild alarm that was already paired with these emotions, became slightly more pressing when a sharp pain in the ribs was almost immediately followed by a hard, cold, lurch into wakefulness. Harry groaned then coughed as he inhaled a generous layer of dust from the floor. This was, of course, followed by a wince and a general feeling of confusion.

"God, you're disgusting, Potter. If you're going to fantasize about the Weaslette, take it to the bathroom and let me sleep." Draco threw a pillow at Harry for good measure. It hit him in the face with surprising accuracy, and Harry was still a bit out of sorts as he watched Malfoy settle back onto the mattress. Putting his back to Harry, he pulled the remaining pillow over his own head. "If only I was deaf too…"

Between the pain, nausea, and sudden fear, Harry was still trying to sort out his thoughts. "Well," he breathed at last. This could certainly pose a problem.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Leave it, Hermione, you're wrong."

The sky was growing light outside as Harry trudged downstairs. He'd spent the last few hours either in the bathroom or pacing the upstairs hallways, content to be anywhere but back in the bedroom with Malfoy.

Once he started hearing noises from below, he'd slowly wandered down to see how the others were faring. Hermione was lingering over some fallen shelves as Ron continued to frown at her. "Even if she did do something with it, she broke it, right? That's what we were going to do. Where's the harm in it."

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, gazing down at the splintered wood with a distant look in her eyes. Even from where he stood on the lowest landing, Harry could see that she was having a difficult time sorting her thoughts out.

"Morning, Harry," Ron said, motioning his friend the rest of the way down and moving over on the sofa so he would have a place to sit. "The locket is gone."

Harry nodded. He'd assumed as much the night before, but had Tonks really taken it? "We weren't sure how to break it anyway," Harry offered lamely. He wasn't sure what words would be of much help right now, but he was fairly certain he didn't have them.

"That's what I said." Ron, obviously, didn't get this sort of vindication often. "Things got pretty weird last night though, didn't they? "

"Is Malfoy all right?" Hermione asked before Harry could voice his response. She faced the boys, pulling her attention away from the ruined furniture.

Draco was the last person he wanted to think about at the moment, so Harry simply shrugged. "Fine," he said quickly, choosing not to elaborate. "So, any idea where to head next?"

"Kind of," Hermione admitted. Like Harry, she seemed to be trying to avoid any overtly direct answer. "Of course, I'm not sure what we'll do if someone's already gotten there too. This is all very troubling."

"Well, there's no harm in putting any more travel off for a bit," Harry said wearily. He had some things he wanted to work through himself. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"Just give me today. I'll figure it out." Obviously haunted by something, Hermione headed for the stairs. All of this only made Harry uncomfortable. As a general rule, he liked to know what was going on, and the suspicion that his friends might be keeping something from him was rather unnerving.

"I don't understand her at all."

Ron's words made Harry smirk. Well, perhaps he wasn't the only one out of the proverbial loop. "Maybe you should go talk to her?" The suggestion seemed an obvious one. While he wasn't sure that Hermione would be particularly appreciative of Ron's company, it seemed like a nice effort.

It was rather obvious that Ron thought little of the idea himself. "I think I'll pass, thanks. You can go after her if you want."

Harry frowned, standing and heading for the downstairs kitchens. "I think you're sort of missing the point," he said, aware that Ron had stood as well and was following him.

"What do you mean?" Ron leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Harry as he went through the cupboards.

He couldn't possibly be that oblivious. "Nevermind." Ron's attitude towards Hermione made him wonder if she was aware of her feelings for him. Surely, she was. Of course, if Ron could be so ignorant, perhaps…

Harry quickly dismissed any thought of Draco from his mind. Last night he had had a dream and nothing more. He'd certainly had stranger ones before. Harry knew that this had been different somehow, but simply wouldn't allow that sort of thinking.

It was several hours before he even ventured back upstairs. Somehow, he doubted Malfoy was still asleep, and something told him it probably wouldn't be right to simply assume everything was all right.

Predictably, the bedroom was still dark. Harry crossed the room and drew back the curtains, allowing muted sunlight to filter in through the still frosted windows. The bed was empty, the sheets drawn back and the pillows lying there haphazardly. Despite having given Draco his wand back the night before, Harry couldn't bring himself to be terribly worried this time. "Malfoy?" he called, heading back for the hallway.

"In here."

Before reaching the doorway, Harry paused and headed back. Of course, no sooner had he opened the door on the other side of the room did he regret his actions. He wasn't entirely sure of what words escaped his lips. He wasn't even sure they were words, rather a string of unidentifiable syllables.

"-and that's twice, now!" were the last few words Harry caught as he backed out of the room. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Malfoy pulling on his shirt. Something seemed a little different, he just couldn't quite determine what. "Sometimes I wonder about you, Potter. When someone's in the bathroom, do you normally let yourself in?"

"No, I mean… I didn't remember this was a bathroom… Sorry – wait, no I'm not. You should have locked the door!" Harry headed into the bathroom himself, still averting his eyes. It was on par with the one he had seen at the Malfoy Manor. Now that he thought about it, a bath didn't sound all that bad either.

"I think the lock is broken. What is this place again? I don't have to see it to know it's a dump."

Harry simply tried to ignore him, though he was right. Compared to Malfoy's home, Grammauld place really was the more unfavorable of the two. He was a little annoyed, yet not terribly surprised, to find that the lock really was broken.

Luckily, the bath seemed exceptionally clean. In fact, it was in such contrast from the rest of the room that Harry suspected Malfoy had already put his wand to good use. By the time he'd run the water, he'd already managed to tidy up his clothes with a few choice spells of his own. As he lowered himself into the steaming water, he finally considered all that had happened the night before.

If the magic they experienced had indeed been the breaking of the Horcrux, how could they hope to handle the others on their own? Though the conditions of her departure seemed suspicious, Harry hoped Tonks was all right as well.

When he had destroyed the diary, nothing like this had happened. Then again, the Horcrux had already manifested itself physically and unleashed a giant, serpentine terror on the school. Perhaps they only had so much excess power. If it wasn't already spent before the Horcrux was destroyed, well, it had to go somewhere.

Harry was so deep in thought, he almost didn't notice it when the bathroom door opened. Scrambling to cover himself up, Harry was a little frustrated to find the intruder was Draco. "Hypocrite," he said under his breath, yet loud enough for Malfoy to hear. "Don't tell me you didn't know I was in here either." As he spoke, Harry noticed that Draco had his back to him, which struck Harry as odd, considering he couldn't see him anyway.

"Trust me, I knew you were in here," Malfoy said, making sure an over-exaggerated shudder was obvious. "I just forgot something. It's not like I'm going to see anything I shouldn't anyway."

"What did you – oh." Harry spotted something thin and white lying on the floor nearby. Assuming the coin Draco possessed didn't show _that _much detail, Harry moved to the other side of the bath and grabbed the bandage from the floor himself. "Got it, but you don't have to keep wearing this, you know. I'm sure Ron and Hermione wouldn't say anything." Well, Hermione wouldn't. He wasn't entirely sure he could vouch for Ron.

"I haven't exactly been able to get a good look in the mirror. If it's all the same to you, I'll keep it on," Draco said, his back still to Harry.

"Well." Harry remembered his dream. He remembered seeing the scars heal, and Draco's pale gray eyes adjusting to sight again. Somehow, he doubted that was likely to happen. Still, he couldn't help but be a little curious. "Let me see. I'll tell you how it looks."

Harry noticed how Malfoy hesitated. It was to be expected, and Harry was surprised to find that this was all the coaxing he apparently needed. Indeed, it was nothing like his dream. Harry made a point to stay quiet as Draco faced him. It was still somewhat startling.

Though the wound had healed well since the last time he had seen it, the scaring was obvious. He felt another pang of guilt as he was suddenly reminded that this was entirely his fault. "I'm sorry," he breathed before he could stop himself. Judging by the expression he received, Malfoy didn't take those words well.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Harry sputtered quickly, realizing how terrible that must have sounded.

"Forget it, Potter. I know." Malfoy took a couple of steps forward and reached out his hand for the bandage a little uncertainly. "It's not like this is your fault."

Even in the warm water, Harry felt a sudden chill. That had been, perhaps, the first unsolicited, kind thing Malfoy had said to him, and it was entirely untrue. He had already gotten the impression that Draco didn't know who it was who had nearly killed him, but hearing it aloud was difficult to process.

He did, however, have enough presence of mind to hand Draco the bandage. "It's not all that bad. It healed faster than I thought it would. Maybe it'll fade faster too." He didn't know how true that was, but he was eager to change the subject even in the slightest bit.

When Draco only tied the bandages back into place, Harry couldn't help but be relieved. "You can go downstairs if you want. The kitchen's in the basement. You could make it with that coin right?"

Malfoy made no move for the door. "I could," he agreed, obviously not fond of being alone with Harry's friends. That didn't bother Harry. The fact that he was still in the room with him, blind or not, did. Before he could address this, Draco took a seat on one of the benches lining the wall. "So what happened last night?"

Harry felt his face grow very warm. "Ah, last night?" Possible responses flew through his mind, all traveling much to fast to be either useful or a coherent explanation. "I don't know… I was just having a dream - more of a nightmare, really and-"

"Woah, Potter, no! Not that," Malfoy said quickly. Harry wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terribly embarrassed. "Before that. Keep your dreams to yourself."

"Right." Harry's poor, confused emotions seemed to opt for embarrassment at this point. "Well, the best we can come up with is that Tonks broke the Horcrux herself, then left."

"Did she say anything? Leave a note?"

"Not as far as I can tell." Harry decided that Malfoy wasn't going to leave any time soon and tried his best to go about business as if he were alone. "So how did you know something was at the door?" he asked before Draco could say anything about Tonks he might not want to hear.

Malfoy only snorted and leaned back against the wall. "I'm shocked you didn't, Potter. It was loud and didn't sound particularly friendly." He hesitated, fishing into his pocket with two fingers and pulling out the coin. He flipped it thoughtfully several times before continuing, "Well, I suppose this helped too. Magic sort of effects the way the air travels and-" He shrugged. "I don't know. You went to Muggle schools, didn't you? You should know how all that nonsense about vibrations and sound works."

More amused than annoyed, Harry smiled. "Just because you don't know how it works doesn't make it 'nonsense'. You said it helped, didn't you?"

"I did," Malfoy agreed. "But if you found a spell or potion that just gave me my sight back, that would be nice too."

The residual waves of guilt were still hindering Harry from being too short with Draco. "I'll keep looking," he promised.

"Maybe you're not so bad, Potter," Draco said after another pause.

Harry hadn't quite been prepared for that either. "That's… wait, what?"

"You're not so bad," he repeated. "If we were both standing on a ledge, I _probably_ wouldn't push you off… probably."

Unsure of how to take those words, Harry searched for an easier synonym. "So… what? We're friends now? You like me?"

"I didn't say that," Malfoy corrected Harry quickly. "And like is, perhaps, too strong of a word. What I said was, that I _probably_ wouldn't wish for your death."

"That's…" Harry worked the words over in his head, trying to decide if it was the worst compliment he had ever received or simply the best insult. "Well, I don't know what that is but, thanks – I think. I wouldn't wish you dead either."

"Probably," Malfoy corrected, to which Harry smiled this time.

"Probably."

* * *

The library was considerably draftier than the bedroom. Harry was beginning to wish he had dried his hair a little more thoroughly. With a sigh, he closed another book and set it aside.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, seemingly content browsing the pages of a very dusty tome in the corner of the room.

"I can't find anything." Harry had already explained to Hermione what he was searching for. She hadn't seemed particularly enthusiastic. Almost all of the books here pertained to the dark arts.

"You've been looking for all of, maybe, three hours, Harry." Hermione closed the tome and wrinkled her nose as a cloud of dust nearly enveloped her. "These things take time – months, years even."

Harry knew she was right, but he really didn't have that sort of patience at the moment. "There's still the chance I could get lucky."

"True," Hermione agreed, pulling her legs into the chair before opening the thickly-bound book in her lap again.

"Would you at least tell me if you found something?" Harry asked, reaching lazily for another book and looking to a grimy window behind the armchair across from him. It was a blurry mix of white and a disgusting brown, making any attempt to see what was going on outside fruitless.

It took Hermione a little too long to answer him. "Yes," she said at last, though Harry got the impression that several conditions applied to this 'Yes' of hers. Before he could question the nature of these conditions, a crash downstairs made them both jump. Muffled shouting began to float upstairs. As best Harry could tell, the portrait of Sirius' mother had woken up and directed her anger at Ron, who had apparently taken great offense.

Hermione groaned. "The curtain probably fell down," she said, standing and heading for the door. "It was looking pretty unsteady this morning, after the Horcrux was released and all."

Harry watched her go and was about to get up to follow her when he spotted the chair Hermione had been seated in. Her bag was tucked beneath it, the top open just enough for Harry to make out the books she had taken from Lupin's camp.

With a glance to the door to make sure she was indeed heading downstairs, Harry hurried to tug the bag from its hiding place. He positioned himself between the table he had been sitting at and the chair. This way, should Hermione come back prematurely, it would take her a moment to spot Harry kneeling on the floor. Of course, the kneeling on the floor bit might look suspicious when he stood, but Harry wasn't terribly concerned. Surely, she wouldn't mind his looking through her books.

He removed a book he recognized vaguely first. The binding flaked slightly as he pulled it open to a paper marker. Several strips of parchment were sticking up from the pages, where Hermione had likely flagged something of interest. In this volume, these "pages of interest" seemed to pertain to Horcruxes.

Harry scanned the pages and frowned. No, not only Horcruxes, other spells pertaining to the soul. It seemed the soul was useful in a great many spells, from dramatic healing, to binding spells of a malicious nature.

He set the book aside. While interesting and something he might come back to later, it wasn't what he was looking for. Harry shuffled through the bag, spotting only one other marked book. He removed it and flipped it open. As soon as he realized what the marked potion recipe was designed for, he took a seat, intending to read it through more thoroughly.

"There, I got the- Harry?" Hermione rounded the table and stopped a few feet from her friend. Normally, she might have been angry with him for going through her things. Instead she stood there, waiting for Harry to make the first move.

Harry didn't look up at first. He scanned the page several times, trying to process the gist of it before addressing Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, obviously, it isn't an option," Hermione said quickly, reaching down for the book. She obviously thought herself finished with this conversation, but Harry only moved away.

Placing his hand flat against the page, he carefully ripped it out. The page released itself easily from the binding and was slipped from the book before Harry stood. "We'll see," he said, folding the page and tucking it into his pocket.

A pained expression crossed Hermione's face, though Harry couldn't tell if it was due to his damaging the book or his frustration with her. "We both know you couldn't. You can't think that – Harry!"

If she said anything else, Harry didn't hear it. He was already halfway down the stairs. The yelling had stopped and Harry intended to retreat to a bedroom and have a look at the spell he had torn from the book without interruption. Ron got to him first.

"Oi, Harry, look at this!" His friend jogged up the stairs, something small and noisy trailing after him.

"Is that Pig?" Harry asked, quite surprised to see the tiny owl away from the safety of its cage.

Ron nodded and held out a small piece of parchment, the size of a post-it note, for Harry to take. "It's from Lupin."

"Lupin sent Pig?" Harry looked doubtfully to the creature flying excitedly about his master's head. "That was… ambitious of him." He opened the miniature parchment and read it over quickly.

_Harry, I hope this finds you and the others well. Give this to Hermione. –Lupin_

The note was far too vague to lift Harry's spirits much, and he didn't particularly feel like taking it to Hermione himself. Instead, he handed the note back to Ron, who was busy trying to catch and restrain Pigwidgeon. "Do what it says, will you?"

"Come back here you ruddy- huh? Why can't you?" Ron gave up on Pig just long enough for the bird to zoom downstairs to explore.

"I have… other things to do. Is Malfoy still downstairs?" Harry slipped his hand into the pocket with the torn-out book page, eager to get some privacy if he could manage it.

"Yes," Ron said, his face falling along with his good mood. "He and Sirius' mum are having a pleasant little conversation. 'Mione still upstairs?"

"Most likely," Harry said shortly, moving into the bedroom and shutting the door without another word. The note from Lupin had just been more information he wasn't meant to know. Even if they all meant well, he didn't appreciate having information kept from him or being lied to.

Taking the paper he'd ripped from Hermione's book in hand, he mused over its contents. They had all used forbidden magic before. Obviously, this was a bit more extreme, but if it brought back Malfoy's sight…

The room became gradually darker, and yet Harry had reached no real conclusion. Part of the page was badly faded and unreadable. There was enough there for Harry to grasp the idea, but the details were sketchy. Eventually, he was forced to light the tip of his wand. By then he had read the page over several times, and reading it yet again would do little good. His eyes were already heavy from being awake for so very long.

The door creaked open and Draco entered, making no effort to keep quiet even as he spoke, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah. You're going to bed already?" Harry watched as Malfoy made his way to the bed, looking a little uncomfortable about the process, even with the help of the coin.

"I guess." Malfoy took a seat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. "And I claimed this bedroom last night you know. _You_ can find a different bed."

"And yet this is _my_ house." Even as Draco lay down, Harry didn't concede. Of course, he knew at this rate they would both be spending the night together again. For some reason the idea didn't bother him in the least.

Malfoy didn't seem quite as enthused. "Whatever," he groaned, putting his back to Harry and pulling the covers up over his shoulders.

Harry folded up the paper once more and slid it back into his pocket. It was unethical, but probably doable. Hermione wouldn't agree with him, but her opinion mattered little to Harry at the moment. He didn't need her help in this. He didn't even have to tell her he was going. She obviously wasn't telling him everything.

Then again, it could be dangerous. If he was caught, there was no telling what sort of trouble he would be in. He wasn't even entirely sure he could actually go through with the task the page presented him with.

Heaving a sigh, Harry laid back and stared up at the ceiling. He heard doors open and shut in the hallway. Maybe Ron and Hermione were going to bed as well. If they were still leaving tomorrow, it would likely be rather early. He was sure Lupin had already divulged the location in his note to Hermione, who might very well have already shared the information with Ron. Again, he would be the last to know.

Harry nearly jumped as a hand fell across his chest. Malfoy situated himself a little closer in his sleep, apparently set on dominating the bed tonight. Before realizing what he was doing, he rested his hand over Draco's. Maybe he wasn't the only one being shielded from the truth, he thought watching the rise and fall of the other boy's chest.

Malfoy didn't know where they were being led next either. He didn't know what was taking place around him half the time. He didn't even know that Harry had been the one to blind him.

Harry felt a familiar pang of guilt and closed his hand around Draco's, effectively stirring him from sleep. "Hmm, what?" he groaned drowsily, obviously not yet conscious enough to berate Harry for holding his hand.

"If I could get you your sight back… would you want me to?" Harry asked, hoping he could get an honest answer while Malfoy was barely awake. "No matter what?"

"No matter what," Malfoy agreed, nodding only slightly but noticeably enough for Harry to get the idea. Before he could lose his nerve, Harry stood. Quickly he pulled on his trainers and reached hastily for his coat and Invisibility Cloak.

All the commotion succeeded in waking Draco completely. He sat up and reached around the nightstand, where he had likely left the coin Tonks had given him. "Potter? What are you doing?"

"Go back to sleep. This shouldn't take too long." Harry grabbed his wand and turned back to Malfoy once he had reached the door.

"Where are you going?" There was a certain level of concern in his voice.

"Out, all right? I'll be back before morning." Harry realized, even as he spoke, that he was doing to Malfoy what everyone else was doing to him.

Draco didn't seem at all appreciative of this. He frowned and lay back again, moving angrily onto his side so that his back was to Harry again. "Fine."

Harry flirted with the urge to apologize, but only for a moment. If he was going tonight, he would have to leave soon. He hurried from the room and down the hallway, waiting until he was downstairs and in darkness before Apparating.

The world constricted around Harry before dropping him out unceremoniously in the snow. He dropped to his knees, throwing his cloak over himself. If he remembered correctly, the path he had taken with Draco was just up ahead. First, however, he needed to make sure no one from the Ministry was present.

Moisture collected under his legs, where the snow was beginning to melt. Forward progress was slow, but he had yet to see anyone from the Ministry and for that he was thankful. He was beginning to consider the best spell for knocking out anyone he might find up ahead when a loud crack off to his right gave him a start.

The noise was too loud to be just an animal. Surely, no one knew he was here already. He crept onward anyway, though he was a bit more wary about the going. It was difficult to silence the snow as it compacted and crunched beneath his weight. No, he wasn't being quite as stealth-like as he would have hoped, but he had yet to see anyone around. Perhaps he really was completely alone out here.

That notion was dismissed almost simultaneously as the graveyard came into view. A tall, broad shouldered man was standing on a tomb and craning his neck. Harry realized he was trying to see the source of the sound from earlier.

Harry reached for his wand, thankful for the distraction if nothing else. He tried not to think of what this might mean should someone else aside from the Ministry be here. Instead, he moved a little closer and began to sort through his arsenal of spells mentally.

Opting for something simple, Harry aimed carefully and was forming his lips silently around the first syllable when another crash sounded. This was followed by a scream, effectively causing Harry to lose his concentration. The man in the graveyard hopped off his macabre perch and took off running in the direction of the noise.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be thankful that the stranger was already taken care of or go and investigate this noise for himself. He had no way of knowing how long it would distract the man, but the scream that followed sounded promising. Now he only had to worry about who these mystery attackers were.

Surely, Death Eaters didn't know he was here. Had _someone _known he was coming? It was either that or a question of extreme coincidence.

"Harry?" A smaller figure entered the graveyard; their form much slighter and potentially younger than anyone he might expect to see posted as a guard.

Harry dropped his cloak from around his shoulders and stood, hurrying forward without further hesitation. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"

"I knew you would come." She still didn't look particularly pleased, but Harry was glad to see her anyway. "There were just two men here, I already checked. Neither of them was much of a threat. They were there." She pointed to a small, snow and foliage colored tent Harry hadn't noticed before.

"And you took care of them already?" Harry was impressed. "How?"

"Just a few things from the Burrow." Hermione removed a small bag from under her coat. "Either they're defective or Fred and George are getting more malicious in their designs."

"You didn't-"

"Oh, no!" Hermione said quickly, walking into the woods once more. "They're just unconscious. I didn't think I should use magic here, just in case they can trace it later. Are you sure you won't change your mind, Harry? We can still go back."

It was a last ditch effort, and Harry was sure she really didn't believe he would take it. "If we leave now, I won't get another chance. They'll have twice as many people guarding the area."

"Well, you can't say I didn't warn you." Hermione rounded the fence, stepping between the graves as she carried a shovel back to him. "I'm not going to try to stop you, but you can't use magic… and I'm not helping. This is disgusting."

Harry looked at the shovel and frowned, not entirely sure he would have enough time anymore. "I didn't say it wasn't. I just-I have to do something and no healing spell will work."

"So you're going to resort to using the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked, taking a seat on a stone bench across from Harry. "You don't even know if it will work. We could be making this worse."

"Well, he's already blind," Harry reminded her, making his first strike into the frozen ground. It gave way easier than he thought it would. Obviously, this wasn't a Muggle shovel. Earth and snow alike seemed soft and almost weightless as he continued to dig. "What worse can we do?"

Hermione still didn't look comfortable with any of this. "Well," she began quietly. "We'll see, won't we?"

Even if the ground was easy to distribute elsewhere, the minutes became hours and the hours were agonizingly slow. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the dexterity in his fingers and several short breaks did little to revitalize him.

Eventually, Hermione stood and left his range of vision. When she came back it was with a shovel of her own. "You won't get finished in time at this rate," she said before he could thank her. "We still have to leave for the Shrieking Shack in the morning. We're meeting Lupin."

With Hermione's aide, the work went much faster. Harry eventually had to climb down into the hole to keep digging, while Hermione busied herself with making it wide enough to have a bit more standing room.

Finally, Harry's shovel scraped against something hard. Above him, he saw Hermione tense. "We're almost finished," he said, kneeling down and wiping dirt from the lid of a surprisingly plain wooden box. With the space Hermione had cleared to his left, it didn't take much more digging to expose the lid completely.

"I can't use magic here either, huh?" Harry didn't have to look back to Hermione to know that she was shaking her head. Carefully, he maneuvered the steel end of the shovel between the lid and sides of the box. He didn't dare ask for Hermione's help with this, instead stepping on the shovel's handle. He put all of his weight and effort into lifting the lid. The wood creaked but didn't budge. Harry was beginning to think he had dug all this way for nothing when the side splintered and one side gave way.

Immediately, Harry felt his heart begin to pound. Until now, all of this had been much easier in his mind. As he worked the lid up, Harry felt his resolve shaking. He turned his back to the makeshift coffin, doing his best to steady his breathing.

The corpse of Lucius Malfoy was far too life-like for Harry to feel comfortable about any part of what he had come here to do. Sure, he had seen dead bodies before, but this felt very wrong.

"Harry, if you don't want to…"

Harry shook his head, took as deep a breath as he dared, and faced Lucius. A voice deep down told him that even if this did work, even if he did restore Draco's sight, this was only one more thing he had to hide from him. He wasn't remedying his own guilt, he was simply adding on to it. As he leaned in close, he heard Hermione back away.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione's last effort to dissuade Harry was lost to the wind as the weather began to worsen. She covered her eyes.

A/N: For this chapter, no special thanks goes to my boyfriend. As I was making the corrections my beta sent, he was busy poking, pulling, licking, biting, and generally being a nuisance. If you haven't noticed, I got this chapter out pretty quick. (for me) I can't help but feel it would have been out a little faster had he not been trying so hard to distract me. I love the guy, but… we are not amused…

Anyway, I _do _want to thank everyone who came back to review. It's nice to see people haven't lost interest in the fic. You can expect a lot more updates (within reason) between now and the release of the final book. I'm trying to get as much finished before the seventh book comes out and, potentially, just manages to depress me.

In other news, you might have noticed (but probably haven't unless, for some reason, you're reading back chapters.) a lot of changes recently. That's because I've re-uploaded all of the chapters featuring Clara Minute's changes on top of BlondeDragon's beta'ing. The changes probably aren't all that noticeable, but if your story alert gave you a false alarm, I apologize. Aside from that, I'm looking forward to hearing any feedback for this chapter you might have.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The room was too dark to see, but Harry wasn't entirely sure his eyes were still open anyway. Closing the door behind himself, he dropped his coat and kicked off his trainers, giving little mind to where they wound up. The only article he did tuck carefully away was his Invisibility Cloak, which he rested gingerly atop his bag. With that taken care of, Harry trudged to the bed and, exhausted, allowed himself to collapse onto the mattress.

A string of expletives flew from Harry's mouth as he struggled to get out of bed quickly. Rather than get to his feet, he only managed to fall roughly out of bed. The tenderness on his side from the last time he had been aquatinted with the painful solidity of the floorboards still hadn't quite faded. They didn't seem quite as cold this time, but that wasn't much of a consolation. He was already numb from the lying on the bed.

"Malfoy!" Harry didn't feel any guilt at all anymore. Climbing to his knees he noticed the aura of frosty blue emanating from the mattress. "Don't make me take your wand back," he said as Draco propped himself up, now visible over the barricade of sheets and pillows he'd apparently constructed between himself and the frozen half of the bed.

"What time is it?" Draco didn't sound particularly concerned with Harry's frustration.

"Late. I want to get some sleep before the sun comes up, if you don't mind." Harry stood and attempted to determine the correct counter-curse needed to thaw his side of the mattress. Unfortunately, he was far too drowsy.

"_I'm_ going back to sleep." Malfoy disappeared behind the pillows and blankets once more. "Don't wake me up."

Harry was tired and frustrated and angry to the point that he felt as if he might be sick. The thought of searching for another room that may or may not have fresh blankets and may or may not be warm made things even worse. "I'm tired, Malfoy! I'm going to sleep in here! J-just fix it!" He was vaguely aware that his voice was wavering slightly. With everything that had happened tonight, he was suddenly having a very difficult time keeping himself together. Malfoy seemed to get the idea.

"Calm down, Potter." Malfoy moved over a bit. "It'll take a while to wear off. Just lie down."

Harry was a little surprised to see Draco pull the covers back on his side. Did he really sound so upset that he was earning Malfoy's pity? Too tired to give the matter much thought, he went around to the opposite side of the bed and lay down. Before their close proximity could make him too uncomfortable, he was asleep.

Despite all the activities of the day before, his sleep was dreamless. Sadly, it also seemed instantaneous. When he felt someone shaking him by the shoulder, he immediately attempted to drift back into unconsciousness.

"Up, Potter. Wake up."

Drowsily, Harry opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, allowing them to adjust before attempting to piece everything together.

"Your _friends_ have come by and knocked on the door several times now. I think we're leaving… and you're on my arm… so I can't."

Harry realized it was Malfoy speaking to him and sounding rather annoyed, just as he realized his head was resting on the other's shoulder rather than the pillow. When he didn't move this time, Draco moved away roughly. "Sorry," Harry muttered, catching himself. He was still too tired to be embarrassed.

"So where was it you went last night?" Malfoy asked, sitting up in bed now that he was free of Harry.

Memories of the graveyard began to work their way back into Harry's mind. He dismissed them hastily. "I don't want to talk about it," he said bluntly. Malfoy didn't respond, but Harry could tell he was still upset.

As he thought over what form Draco's anger towards him might take next, Harry realized his glasses were missing. After a few moment's searching, he picked them up off the nightstand. It stood to reason that Malfoy had put them there during the night.

Only now was embarrassment beginning to set in. He couldn't help but be a little relieved to see that Malfoy's thoughts didn't seem to be going in quite the same direction. The blonde beside him kicked down the barricade between the two of them and the other side of the bed. It seemed the mattress had thawed overnight and Malfoy sat at its edge only long enough to get his bearings before standing.

Harry couldn't bring himself to get out of bed just yet. Not only was he exhausted, but a sudden tightness in his chest was making him increasingly more uncomfortable. Obviously, there was still some lingering unease about what he had done the night before. Part of him was very nervous about that. Even if Malfoy couldn't see him, and was clueless as to Harry's activities the previous night; he still felt exposed. He felt like Draco already knew what he had done, and it was only a matter of time before they were the worst of enemies again.

Watching as Malfoy did his best to look presentable without the aide of a reflection, Harry found himself growing ever more nervous. He didn't want things to go back to the way they had been. "We're headed for the Shrieking Shack," Harry said, hoping that little bit of information might make up for everything else he was keeping from Malfoy. It didn't.

"Right." If Malfoy was surprised by the location, Harry couldn't tell from the view he had of his back. He didn't sound thrilled, but Harry was almost certain that most of the animosity there was aimed at him.

"Right." Harry echoed, standing and making a beeline for his bag in the corner. He almost gagged as he tucked the Invisibility Cloak a little further inside. "I'm going downstairs then."

Without turning around to face Malfoy, Harry heard what he could only imagine was the verbal equivalent of a sneer. "When I asked where you were last night, that didn't mean I wanted a play-by-play of the rest of your life, Potter."

Harry toyed with the notion of being angry with him again but decided it simply wasn't worth it. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he left the room and headed downstairs. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, though he missed the days when the justification for his dislike of Malfoy was a little easier to discern.

"Found it!"

Harry had come downstairs just in time to get a fine view of his best friend's backside. Ron backed himself out from under a table near the fireplace. In one hand he was clutching a very dusty old jar, though Harry was sure he saw a flash of green. Floo Powder.

Did the Shrieking Shack have a hearth? It had been so long since he had last been there. "Morning, Ron. Where's Hermione?"

"Huh?" Ron threw an arm in front of his face, doing his best to quell the onsets of a sneeze. His search had apparently stirred up a great deal of dust. "Oh, right," he said in a slightly nasal voice before standing and moving away from the settling clouds of foggy gray. "I think she went down to the kitchen."

Harry nodded, and headed for a window. He had every intention of getting some fresh air when Ron stopped him.

"Did something happen?" he asked, letting go of Harry's arm as he went by. "I mean, did I do something to make her mad? I know it isn't a first or anything, but… "

"What do you mean?" Harry felt a little guilty playing dumb. He knew well just why Hermione might be a little upset this morning.

Ron seemed to be shouldering much of the blame himself at the moment. "I don't know. This morning, it was like she was upset about something. She didn't want to talk about it, but… I dunno. You think she's mad at me?"

Harry shook his head immediately this time. "No." He had hoped to avoid Hermione for a while, but she was still one of his best friends. "I'll go talk to her."

"Thanks, mate." Ron sat the jar of Floo Powder on the mantelpiece, managing a weary sort of smile. Harry got the impression that he was a bit like Malfoy at the moment, almost certain he was missing something, just not entirely sure what. Hopefully, he wouldn't become quite so bitter once he realized he was right. The last thing Harry needed these days was more of a strain on his relationship with his friends.

The lights in the kitchen were on, though Harry couldn't see Hermione. Nothing was out on the counters, and it didn't look as if anyone had cooked any breakfast yet. He opened his mouth to call out for Hermione when he heard a sudden sob from the other side of the counters.

Harry felt his heart leap in his chest and quickly rounded the counter to find the source of the noise. "Hermione?" His footsteps must have given her proper warning, Hermione sat against the cabinets, hastily dabbing her eyes on her sleeve. She did an impressive job of pulling herself together at a moment's notice; even her posture became a little straighter as he kneeled down beside her.

"What's wrong?" Surely this was wasn't_ all_ about the night before. She had seemed a little ill when they were heading home, but had she been upset she would have said something. Then again, they hadn't exactly been on the best of terms lately.

Hermione shook her head, though even she found it difficult to find excuse for her blotchy, tear streaked face. "Oh, Harry." She wiped her eyes again and brushed a few strands of frizzy brown hair from her face. "This is all so… frustrating."

Harry didn't need to question her to know that part of what was upsetting her was precisely what she was hiding from him. "I know." He took a deep breath, swallowing what resentment he had left for her, and hugged Hermione. "Thanks for the help last night."

For a moment it seemed Hermione was about to say something. Instead, she merely hugged Harry back, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a moment as she collected her thoughts and emotions.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said at last, and Harry immediately knew she had no current plans to tell him what it was he seemed to be missing out on.

"It's okay," he lied. It wasn't okay, not at all, but he supposed he would just have to trust Hermione. Obviously, there must be a good reason she couldn't tell him. She would never put him or the others in danger. Yes, he trusted her wholly, but this didn't mean that he had to like it. It was just that none of them were going to get through any of this if he didn't at least make an effort to relax the tension between them.

"I still think this potion idea of yours is a very silly thing to try." Hermione pulled away, her eyes dry once more.

Harry only groaned. "It's not like I've tried it yet. I'm just keeping the option… open."

"Mm-hmm." Hermione gave him a frown, but there was no more malice in it than when she would catch him cheating on his homework. "Just be careful. I don't want you doing anything you might come to regret later." She stood and offered a hand down to Harry. "How is Malfoy, anyway?"

That wasn't something Harry particularly wanted to think about anymore. He accepted Hermione's hand and got to his feet as well. "Angry, I think. He knows I went somewhere last night… He tried to keep me off my side of the mattress," he said to her back, watching as Hermione went to wash her hands.

"Your _side_ of the mattress?" Hermione gave him a quizzical, side-long glance and paused in turning off the water before having a quick rummage through the pantry.

Hearing the fact that he was voluntarily sharing a bed with Draco Malfoy out loud did make it seem very odd. There was indeed something very wrong with him lately. "Yes," he said, trying to make it sound as-matter-of-fact as he possibly could.

"But, why?" Hermione tapped the tip of her wand to a small jar, likely to chill it.

Harry didn't have time to analyze exactly what was wrong with him lately, though he would undoubtedly have to later. "Because it's my bed. If someone has to move, it should be him! What about Ron?"

"Ron? He found his own bed."

"No, I mean, have you talked to him?" Harry leaned against the counter, feeling a little useless as he watched Hermione begin to toast a few, remarkably fresh-looking, slices of bread.

"I can't talk to him about this," Hermione said a little awkwardly.

Ron would probably be a lot more understanding than Harry had been. He did seem more concerned, but Harry decided telling her that might not come off well. "You talked to me," he pointed out instead, leaving out the fact that she hadn't actually said much at all to him.

"It's not as if I went looking for you. Here, hurry up and eat. We need to get going." Hermione handed Harry a piece of toast, though he still wasn't particularly hungry. He picked at the edge of the bread anyway.

"What's the rush?"

"We're supposed to meet Lupin within the hour." Hermione placed a few more pieces of jam-smeared toast on an antique china plate as she munched thoughtfully on a piece of her own. "We probably have enough time, but it's best to be safe about these things. We wouldn't want to miss him."

"We wouldn't?" Harry asked, finishing his breakfast gloomily.

Hermione didn't seem to take kindly to his sudden change in attitude. "Harry! Don't talk like that about Lupin. He cares about you."

And Harry cared about Lupin, but all these secrets had started when he had come around. He needed _someone_ to blame for all these lies, though deep down he couldn't be too angry with someone he had been able to rely on for so long. He still trusted Lupin, and that's what annoyed him most.

"Come on." Hermione nudged his arm. "Go get Malfoy, and let's just go."

As he climbed the stairs, Harry was relieved to see Draco was already seated in a chair near the hearth. Ron was slouched over the back of the chair across from him, but looked up as he heard footsteps.

"There's no time for a proper breakfast Ron. Here you are." Ron selected a piece of toast off the plate, his expression one of bewilderment. As Hermione made her way over to Malfoy, he looked to Harry. '_What?_' he mouthed, to which Harry only shrugged.

"What is this? Is this toast?" Malfoy sounded disappointed.

"I found the Floo Powder." Ron nodded Hermione in the direction of the jar on the mantelpiece. It appeared that he had given up on trying to understand the ever-mutable moods of women. "So we can leave, you know, whenever."

"It's toast." Malfoy's words were almost accusatory this time.

For a moment it appeared Hermione was considering taking back her rushed breakfast entirely, but the moment passed. "That's a relief. I thought you might be getting tired of Apparating, Harry. It's also probably best if we keep our methods of transportation varied. You never did receive your license, did you?"

"It hasn't exactly been on the top of my to-do list." Harry retrieved his bag from the corner as Ron glanced away sheepishly. He'd never gotten around to passing his test either.

"Is the Shrieking Shack even part of the Floo Network?"

Harry got the impression that Malfoy was simply unimpressed rather than genuinely curious. It was probable that he didn't know about any other uses the Shrieking Shack had served.

"Why don't you and Malfoy go first, Harry?" Hermione suggested, taking the jar from the mantle and unscrewing the lid.

Harry was a little uncomfortable with the idea, but threw his bag over his shoulder and went to the hearth.

"I think I can manage getting there on my own, thanks." Malfoy stood, pulling back as Harry came closer.

"So you can hightail it back to the other Death Eaters?" Ron's concern for Hermione had shifted back to simply giving Draco a hard time. "I don't think so."

"Let it go." Harry caught Malfoy by the shoulder before he could retaliate. He stepped into the fireplace, keeping the other close. "He does have a point. I already gave you your wand back. I have to draw the line somewhere."

As soon as Harry finished speaking, he knew he had said something wrong. Ron and Hermione exchanged startled looks. Even Malfoy tensed. "Shrieking Shack," he annunciated quickly, jerking Harry's wrist downward and causing him to drop the Floo Powder. Harry scarcely had time to wrap an arm around him before he was sent spinning in a blur of green.

Too disoriented to properly stand upright upon landing, Harry was only made dizzier when Malfoy rushed from his side and across the poorly lit room. "W-wait, where are you going?"

"To hide my wand," he snapped, his voice muted slightly by the thin wall separating Harry from the next room. "Since you couldn't keep your mouth shut… "

Momentarily alone, Harry was left to muse over his sudden inability to just keep from starting more problems on top of old.

Malfoy wasn't going to give up his wand again without a fight, which Ron would likely be much too happy to provide. Of course, Harry had no intention of forcing Draco to give it back. He wasn't even sure he would be able to find it.

The thoughts running through Harry's head seemed to pause themselves for a moment, stuck on something out of place.

"Malfoy," he called quickly, picking up his pace to a light jog. He rounded the corner just in time to see Malfoy setting a broken lamp back on its side in the corner. "Have you been here before?"

Harry couldn't imagine how he would know that saying "Shrieking Shack" specifically would take him here. From his experience with the Floo Network, the locations seemed very generalized. For all Harry knew about traveling here by that means, he may as just of soon said "Hogsmeade", though he doubted that would have done the trick.

Even then, how had Malfoy found a place to stash his wand so quickly? Why had he run off on his own when the majority of the Wizarding populace thought this place to be particularly dangerous?

"Once," Malfoy said, crossing to the bed and taking a seat. The blunt response surprised Harry. With all the half-truths he was getting lately, he had expected no less here. Unfortunately, he didn't get the opportunity to question Draco any further.

The sounds of shuffling in the next room told him that someone else was just now stumbling out of the fireplace. Harry took a moment to compose himself before going to face the others. As he approached, Hermione emerged, stepping out to Ron's side.

"Have you gone completely mental?" Ron made no effort to keep his voice down, though the shack was small. Harry was sure Draco would be able to hear them anyway.

"I'm afraid I have to agree, Harry." Hermione sounded exasperated, as if this was only one more mistake in a long line of bad decisions.

Harry was beginning to wonder if she was right. "What harm could he do, really?" Even as Harry spoke, his mind was swimming with at least a dozen particularly painful spells Malfoy could easily pull off blind.

Obviously, the same idea had occurred to both Hermione and Ron. However, both of them fell silent, eyes fixed on a point just over Harry's left shoulder.

"What?" he asked, turning to find Lupin standing to one side of the tunnel to Hogwarts. Malfoy was standing beside him, and both seemed to be waiting patiently for the other three to finish.

When it became clear that they were, indeed, finished for the time being, Lupin offered his own advice. "Well, if Harry truly believes he can trust Draco, I think it's a good idea."

"Yes, I agree, it sounds like a _very_ good idea," Malfoy said with a smile, clasping his hands behind his back.

Ron groaned, and Harry was sure he knew why. Predictably, Malfoy had leeched on to the nearest authority figure and would, undoubtedly, use this to his advantage until they parted company with said authority figure.

When no one argued the matter, Harry decided that things could have gone worse. He took it upon himself to move things along, dusting off a few rickety-looking chairs with the back on his hand. "Have you heard from Tonks?"

Something about Lupin's demeanor made Harry uneasy, but mention of Tonks managed to coax forth a faint smile. Of course, after it had passed, Harry would have found it difficult to relay whether it had been pained or simply weary.

"Don't worry about her," he said, closing the distance between himself and Harry before taking a seat. "That Horcrux is taken care of, and we have a good idea of where the next is."

"Oh?" Hermione asked excitedly, the prospect that their work would be over quickly an exciting one. "Where?"

"I already have a group taking care of it." He reached into his jacket, into an inside pocket Harry was familiar with. Predictably, a _Daily Prophet_ was removed and unfolded neatly. "I actually called you here for a different matter."

Harry reached for the paper, but Lupin moved it just out of his reach. Instead he offered the _Daily Prophet_ to Ron.

"What?" Ron accepted the paper a little nervously. When Lupin bid no answer, he was forced to look down at the bold, inked headlines and the gray, wriggling blotch of a picture Harry couldn't quite make out.

Almost immediately, Ron's face drained of color. He looked as if he was going to be ill, but didn't release the paper. Instead he held onto it for a long while, long enough to read the article over more than once. All the while, he shook his head, muttering sporadic, nonsensical words of disbelief.

At last Hermione moved close enough to read from over his shoulder. Harry's heart rose to his throat as he watched her face blanch as well. "Oh, no," Hermione breathed.

By now, Harry was expecting the worst. Even Malfoy had ventured a little closer, straining to hear if anything divulging the contents of the paper had actually been spoken. "What is it?" Harry asked, looking to Lupin, whose eyes were currently downcast.

"I'm afraid the Ministry is losing its patience," Lupin said, his voice low and his words very careful. "It seems the Weasleys have been arrested."

"What?" Harry was having trouble believing what he was hearing. "Everyone?"

Lupin shook his head. "As I understand it, Ginny is still at Hogwarts, and the others, well, only Molly, Arthur, the twins, and a handful of other witches and wizards at the Burrow were apprehended."

None of this made any sense. Molly and Arthur had done nothing but help the Ministry's cause for the last few months. "Why?"

"Harboring the enemy, I'm sure," Ron snapped, throwing down the paper and casting a hateful glance in Malfoy's direction. Apparently, the paper didn't give exact details of the arrest.

"That can't be right." Harry refused to believe that their taking Draco with them was just cause for the Ministry to detain the Weasleys. That was entirely too much responsibility to shoulder. "Why should it matter to them?" Surely, by now, they would have noticed the empty compartment in the floor of Draco's bedroom back in Wiltshire. What did one teenage Death Eater matter at times like these?

When Lupin appeared to be pausing once more, choosing his words carefully, Harry felt what few hopes he had left take that opportunity to dash themselves. "We're… not _entirely _sure," Lupin offered a little lamely. "We think it might be something of a trap, like that business with the Malfoys. None of the Weasleys are in particularly high-security areas."

Hermione moved from Ron's side and closer to the others. "What sort of trap is that then?" Harry was wondering the same thing himself.

"A rather good one actually," Lupin explained. "You see, we happen to need Fred and George."

Before Harry or Hermione could ask why the Order needed the twins, there was a loud crash. "This is your fault!"

In hindsight, it seemed obvious to Harry that he should have foreseen the confrontation. Ron's hands gripped the front of Malfoy's shirt. He'd backed Draco up against the wall, and, there was no question, intended to have it out rightthere.

"Get off me, Weasley!" Malfoy tried to shove him away but failed. He never had been very good at "Muggle dueling". Draco had always preferred to use his words, and not in the context good mothers everywhere encouraged. "Surely a jail cell is much more luxurious than that hovel you call a home."

It took the combined efforts of Lupin and Harry to drag Ron off Malfoy. With his initial urge to console his friend, Harry barely noticed Draco scrambling to his feet and up the tunnel that led to the Hogwarts campus.

"I've got him, Harry," Lupin said, hands still on Ron's shoulders. Hermione had moved between him and the tunnel, and, while Ron was still very red in the face, it didn't look as if he intended to pursue Malfoy. "Just go after him!"

Lupin's tone was surprisingly urgent. Harry wasted no more time. He rushed up the earthen tunnel, finding an occasional foot hold in the roots spidering through the area. As his concerns for Ron and the other Weasleys began to dull, he suddenly found himself worried for Malfoy. What if he had already made it past the Hogwarts campus? Now that he had been given back his wand, what was to keep him from Apparating away?

The notion that Malfoy was already well on his way back to the Death Eaters was still floating distractedly through his mind when he quite nearly tripped over the escapee in question. Halfway between dirt and snow, Harry kneeled down.

Malfoy was slumped over, gingerly rubbing the blood from a split lip. He was obviously aware that he was not alone but said nothing to Harry.

"You sort of brought most that pounding on yourself, you know." Harry waited for a smart response, but none came. He studied the other carefully, leaning in a little closer. "Oh, come on," he sighed, gathering that Malfoy was upset. "I'm sure he didn't hit you _that _hard."

"I think…" Malfoy leaned back against the dirt wall of the tunnel. "I think I'm going to leave."

"What?" This day had been progressing horribly. Harry was a little afraid to ask the obvious. "Where would you go?"

Malfoy drew in his knees and rested his head defeatedly against his folded arms. The wind picked up around them, whistling through the seasonably dry and bare branches of the Whomping Willow. Harry waited impatiently for his answer, his already frazzled mind considering a few of the things Malfoy could possibly say at this point.

"You liked the Burrow, didn't you?" Harry asked at last, realizing that this silence was a guilty one. "And Mrs. Weasley?" He couldn't help but smile faintly when Draco didn't immediately dismiss the assumption.

"It's not your fault, you know." Harry wasn't sure that meant anything when, on purpose or not, it most obviously was. After an even longer silence, he suggested his biggest fear. "You don't plan on turning yourself in to the Ministry, do you?" He was relieved when that possibility was instantly shot down.

"No! Are you kidding? They'd kill me," Malfoy groaned, his expression both slightly pained and torn. "Damn it, Potter, I don't know. I'm not doing anyone any good here! All Mrs. Weasley did was try and help, and look where that got her."

"They'll be fine," Harry said uneasily. The thought of the people he had considered family for so long in prison somewhere made him sick.

"That's not even the worst thing that could have happened to them!" Draco gripped his left forearm, clawing absently at the Dark Mark beneath his sleeve. "The Dark Lord could have found them if he wanted to! He could have found you by now if he wanted to! It's just – it's stupid to keep me around! I can't just-"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry felt as if his chest was constricting. He wasn't sure if he was angry with Draco or just sick of the entire situation.

Suddenly, it was as if Harry was moving against his own volition. He grabbed Malfoy by the arm, preventing him from making a run for it, on the off-chance he tried to do so. "I don't care, all right? I don't!"

Harry knew Malfoy was right. They would all be a lot safer without Draco around. Dragging him along was pure idiocy, but if Malfoy left now, how could he make sure he was safe? Who would be there to make things interesting (he would even miss their arguments to some extent) when Ron and Hermione were as preoccupied with one another as, newly-weds, Bill and Fleur.

Malfoy was blind now, and it was his fault. He couldn't just let him wander off on his own. How would he survive without… "You don't want to go back to the Death Eaters, do you?"

Draco gave an involuntary shiver. "No, but-"

"That's it then, you're staying." And with that, Harry pulled Malfoy into a hug.

"We'll figure something out. Until then, you have to stay with us. I know there are other places you could go to hide out other than with the Death Eaters. I know there's Crabbe or Goyle, Pansy, Blaise. I already found a way to get your vision back. Once we take care of that, we can get rid of the Dark Mark."

Harry knew there was no easy way to explain an embrace away. It wasn't a simple, lingering touch, it wasn't waking up in an awkward position, and it was certainly never anything he would do, even with Ron.

Harry realized Malfoy was pulling away… And then he realized he had mentioned Blaise.

"Why would Blaise help me?" Draco asked suspiciously. Judging by outward appearances only, Blaise would likely be one of the very last Slytherins willing to aide Malfoy. On the contrary, Blaise was a likely candidate for Most-Likely-To-Slam-A-Door-In-Malfoy's-Face.

The collective vocabulary of more than seventeen years chose exactly that moment to escape Harry. He reached for a lie, any even remotely believable lie, and simply drew a blank.

"Potter?" There was a dangerous edge to Malfoy's voice. Apparently, he had already suspected something amiss back at the Manor.

Harry was so sick of lying, he might as well have been under the influence of Veritaserum. "It was in the Pensieve," he blurted out. A moment later his jaw was aching and Malfoy was moving further out into the snow as if taking going out onto the grounds into consideration.

It seemed the coin in Malfoy's pocket wasn't nearly specific enough to give him a good idea of where he could press to paralyze the tree. Even he didn't want away badly enough to chance a run out from under the Whomping Willow. Instead, he turned back to Harry and, reluctantly, began to head back to the Shrieking Shack. He pushed Harry roughly aside for good measure.

"Malfoy!" Harry didn't expect him to stop and give him a chance to explain, but calling out to him felt necessary.

When Malfoy had vanished completely up the tunnel, Harry gave the dirt wall to his right an angry kick. Now he'd done it. In less than a minute, he'd confessed to a serious violation of privacy, outted Draco, and – had he just outted himself as well? Was he attracted to Malfoy, someone he had continuously despised for more than six years? Surely not. No that notion was beyond silly.

Wasn't it?

Harry kicked the wall again. The jerk of his leg freed the white edge of a slip of paper from his pocket, and suddenly Harry knew what it was he needed to do.

* * *

Night found Hermione reassuring Ron in the bedroom of the Shrieking Shack. A comforting hand lingered on his shoulder as he sat tensed at the edge of the mattress, while in the main room of the building, Lupin conversed quietly with a very sulky Draco Malfoy. 

None of them seemed to miss Harry who, at the moment, was wandering the dungeons of Hogwarts beneath the cover of his Invisibility Cloak. Getting inside had been easy enough. He'd managed to slip in as Filch was coming out. The school hadn't changed at all while he had been away. The students were retiring to their respective Houses for the night, making it quite easy to make his way to the Potions storeroom.

No one noticed when the door opened on its own. Harry had never frequented the lower floors when he could help it, but the hallways seemed unusually empty. He supposed that this shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Most of the students had, undoubtedly, gone home to concerned parents by now.

Filling the bag hanging from his shoulder with darkened vials of this and cloudy-looking bags of that, his thoughts strayed to Snape. It didn't seem long ago at all that he'd been fuming over his latest failure in Potions class, waiting miserably for the Potions Master to pass by and berate him for it, loudly enough for the entire class to hear, of course.

Harry's hatred for Snape had not lessened in the time he had spent searching for the remaining Horcruxes. If anything, it had only matured delicately like wine, his anger now much more subdued, but just as strong. The hatred reflected itself subtly in his features, and made his body tense at the very thought of his former Professor's name.

Harry dismounted the stepladder carefully, taking care not to tread upon the edge of his cloak. It occurred to him that he would need a cauldron, but somewhere to stash the bag until he could find this cauldron would be necessary first if he didn't want to have to juggle everything beneath his Cloak. Shrugging the bag back onto his shoulder, Harry made his way towards the nearest bathroom. As it came into view, two hulking figures outside of the girl's lavatory gave him reason to pause.

Harry waited a few minutes and was considering heading in the other direction when the door opened. A girl Harry recognized stepped from the bathroom door, rubbing her eyes. She stopped long enough to take notice of the two boys waiting on her.

"Stop following me," she said irritably, walking away from Harry and in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory. Crabbe and Goyle waited exactly three seconds before exchanging somewhat dejected looks and following after Pansy.

Before the door could shut completely, Harry slipped inside. It was likely best not to have too many doors open mysteriously on their own. No one else appeared to be inside so Harry wasn't nervous in the least as he dropped his Invisibility Cloak to set his bag down in the last stall.

"Oh, naughty, naughty, Harry. What are you doing in the girl's bathroom?"

Moaning Myrtle swooped down from the ceiling, dropping her head down through the bag he had just put down. "And what is this?" she queried. "I haven't seen you in a long time come to think of it. What are you doing here now?"

"I've seen you in the _boy's_ bathroom before. What are you doing anyway?" Harry challenged, though he was not at all curious as to why she was away from her usual haunting grounds. He had no patience for this at the moment, but didn't dare abandon her now, when she would likely be off through the pipe systems to spread word of the brief encounter moments later.

"Chatting with a friend," Myrtle said almost proudly. Luckily she no longer seemed particularly interested in the smuggling of potions ingredients. Harry decided to humor her.

"Who, Pansy?"

Myrtle nodded. "Such a nice girl." Harry wasn't sure he would use the word "nice" to describe Pansy Parkinson, but nodded anyway. "Poor girl's been missing her boyfriend something dreadful."

"Boyfriend?" Harry was sure he knew whom Myrtle was referring to, but for some reason, the word still made his skin crawl. "And that would be, who? Malfoy?"

Myrtle floated over the cubicles lazily, giving the name some thought. "You know him then?"

"Yeah," Harry said, forgetting, for the moment, that there really were other things he should be taking care of. "And so do you. You remember. He-" But Myrtle was already level with him again.

"Oh, yes! The boy you nearly killed." Harry noticed a slightly remorseful tone in her voice as she said the word, "nearly". "And where is he these days? He never did come to visit me again either. You didn't hurt him again, did you?"

"I-" Harry faltered. "Well, he's- ah- fine now."

Rather than picking up on the points Harry was trying to avoid, Myrtle only seemed intrigued. "So you know where he is then?"

Harry faltered again, knowing now that he should have shut up minutes ago. "No, I just-" But Myrtle had already retreated down the S-bend, no doubt off to spread the news to "a friend".

Deciding he'd rather juggle several things under his cloak at once than wait around to make more mistakes, Harry grabbed the bag once more and left in search of a cauldron. By the time he'd dragged his haul outside of the school and trudged through the snow, the moon was high in the sky. The light reflected from the smooth, white surface of the ground, lighting his way without need for a lit wand or lantern.

He remained beneath the Invisibility Cloak as he crossed the Hogwarts grounds and ceased progressing forward completely when he spotted someone sitting just inside the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. Almost immediately they disappeared from sight, heading back down. Harry smiled weakly and pressed on, pushing the cauldron down first. To avoid having to explain the cauldron and the bag of ingredients within away to Lupin, he spread his Invisibility Cloak over the lot of it. Leaving the cauldron in the tunnel, he entered the Shrieking Shack itself.

Harry was slightly disappointed to see that Lupin appeared to be gone anyway. There was no candle left burning for him, but his vision adapted quickly enough. He could see two bodies stretched haphazardly across the bed in the next room. From the looks of it, Hermione and Ron had fallen asleep there unintentionally.

Harry removed his coat, thankful that the Shrieking Shack was warmer than most abandoned Muggle establishments he had been in. He needed his coat for a pillow if he planned on sleeping on the floor.

There was someone already stretched out in the corner. Harry noticed that he had, _considerately_, taken both blankets from Hermione's bag for himself, and currently appeared to be feigning sleep.

"Thanks for waiting up for up for me," Harry said quietly, knowing Malfoy could hear him as he laid down a few yards away, his jacket doing little to make the floorboards more comfortable.

A/N: I told you I would have the next chapter out quickly, didn't I? Well, this was quick for me at any rate. Even I have a life, so this was written out longhand while visiting with family in Alabama. While there, I discovered one possible reason for my love of Slytherin – I can relate.

I happened to be reading HBP aloud on the way. My mother (currently taking another go at this sobriety business) had agreed to drive if I would. It's a fair distance away, and I hadn't eaten all day. When I insisted we stop for a bite to eat, she begrudgingly did so, and, naturally, we had to wait around for our orders to be made.

During this wait, she began to question why Draco and Snape were my favorite characters in the series. She didn't see the appeal, she said, they seemed like awful people (Her opinion changed when I finished reading HBP.). Now keep in mind she said this after telling the poor, tired woman taking our orders that we could have eaten in a proper restaurant for how much we were paying and how long it was taking. After saying the bit about Slytherins, she wrinkled her nose, and looked to me, "Must be inbreeding…", well within hearing distance of the same woman.

No, why ever am I "all right" with Slytherins?

Ah, I also have a rec. I've never felt the need to rec anything before, but this is an awesome fic: (there was a URL inserted here, but it doesn't want to upload. Just, erm, search for it.) "Hollow", by Neverbird is not only well written (and H/D slash) it's hillarious. Seriously, I laughed so hard, I nearly cried at points. Go on and give it a read; only after you've finished reviewing this chapter, of course.

Anyway, I trust you've all preordered your tickets for OotP? It's my least favorite movie, but I still plan on attending the midnight showing decked out, me in my Malfoy shirt (yes, I have one of those – huzzah) and my boyfriend in his Sorting Hat. Here's hoping it's good!

All right, enough with this freakishly long author's note, click the review button!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Let me go ahead and warn you that this chapter hasn't gotten back from my beta yet. I'm just impatient and want to see if I can get much done on the next chapter before the 7th book is out and this is officially an AU fic.

My boyfriend was nice enough to give this a read over for me, but aside from a few "eww" 's and corrections that weren't… erm… correct, didn't offer much. He caught a couple things though, so I guess I shouldn't complain.

Chapter Thirteen

Harry was aware that he was sleeping in the same way that some people gain lucidity in dreams. It was the same sort of dim awareness, somewhere in the back of his mind. He got the impression that this darkness had once been a dream of some sort, but he had stove it off. Harry didn't want any dreams tonight. Every time one began to edge its way into being, he pushed it back again.

Dreams were something Harry had mixed feelings about. His dreams tended to edge towards the strange and, whether he allowed himself to realize it or not, mildly prophetic. Even if this wasn't the case, part of him suspected his dreams might revert back to being sexual in nature, and that was a wildly unnerving idea he wasn't quite ready to deal with.

He was gaining a bit more lucidity as another dream tried to intrude onto his sleep. It seemed to consist of mostly sound, Harry noted. Footsteps sounded faintly and seemed rather insistent about being heard, as they proved impossible to push away. It wasn't long (or perhaps it was ages; Harry had never quite been able to grasp the constant flux of dream time.) before he realized they must be real.

It took a few moments for Harry to decide whether he had woken himself or his body had done it on its own. He looked around the dark room, blearily. It was still dark, and nothing appeared to be amiss. He noted that the footsteps couldn't have been Malfoy's. Harry could see his outline curled up awkwardly under the blanket, as if it had taken him a long time to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

No, it seemed the footsteps were coming from the stairs. Quietly, Harry got to his feet and crossed the room. He headed upwards just in time to see someone familiar disappear onto the floor above.

"Hermione?"

Above him, Hermione took a step back, quickly pressing a finger to her lips and motioning Harry up.

"What?" Harry whispered, climbing up to join her. He noticed that her wand was out yet not lit.

"I thought I heard something," she said quietly, but even as she spoke she began to put her wand away. "But it was probably nothing."

It certainly looked that way. From where they stood, Harry had an excellent view of the entirety of the second floor of the Shrieking Shack. It really didn't look as if anyone was there.

Hermione sighed, going to one of the boarded up windows. "I guess I was just dreaming it." She smiled rather sleepily at Harry. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

Harry was about to answer, but a stifled yawn did the job for him. "I think I'm going to go back to sleep, if it's all the same to you. Oh, if Ron all right?"

"As much as he can be," Hermione said, looking genuinely upset about the matter as well. "Lupin left before we could ask anything, but-" The rest of Hermione's sentence transformed into a startled scream as the stairway below was suddenly blanketed in flames.

Harry stumbled away from the staircase as Hermione grabbed hold of his arm, her other hand reaching reflexively for her wand again. Harry did the same as his mind began to clear.

"_Augamenti_!" The flames were high and roaring, but Hermione's voice rose above the noise.

"_Augamenti_!" Harry joined in, raising his wand high as a second jet of water joined the first. Together they managed to extinguish very little. Either more fire kept coming or the Shrieking Shack was much more flammable than he could have anticipated.

"Hermione!" Harry backed away and turned his wand on the boarded-up window, blasting it open. "We have to-" The smoke was rising now and burning his eyes and lungs. It was a struggle to keep from breaking down in a fit of coughing. "We have to get out of here!"

"But, what about Ron!" Even as Hermione said it, she was lowering her own wand and making a run for the window as well. They would have to go around to the front and see if they could get back in from there.

Hermione jumped down first. Harry leaned his head out into the night air, taking several deep breaths, the last of which was filled with smoke cascading from the opening. As he began to cough, he looked down to make sure Hermione was all right. It seemed the snow had cushioned her fall considerably. If the impact had been painful, she didn't show it.

By the time Harry had climbed out of the window, she was already rushing around the side of the building. Harry landed on his side. Recent snowfall had raised the ground somewhat, so the fall wasn't nearly as long as it might have been had he tried this in the summer. It still hurt, however, and Harry winced slightly as he got to his feet and took off after Hermione.

Ron and Malfoy were still trapped inside. If they took too long – well, Harry didn't want to even consider that. As he rounded the corner of the shack, Harry noticed Hermione at one of the side windows. The boards there were rotten, he noted, watching as one of the splintered boards broke off into Hermione's hand.

"Do you think they got out?" Hermione asked, looking very pale in what little moonlight was managing to come down through the smoke.

Shielding his eyes against the smoke as best he could, Harry leaned through the broken boards. He could see the blankets where Malfoy had been sleeping now beginning to catch fire. There was certainly no Malfoy there now, and the boards looked as if they had been broken and pulled off from the inside.

"It looks like Malfoy did." Harry whipped around, desperately searching the surrounding area for any sign of either Malfoy or Ron. "But I don't see either of them."

Harry looked back to Hermione who was backing away from the window as the smoke got worse. There were tears on her cheeks that Harry genuinely doubted were from stinging eyes. Harry doubted Malfoy would have taken the time to wait for Ron, or any of them for that matter.

"Ron's still in there!" Hermione's voice was ragged with emotion. She pulled out her wand and opened her mouth to shout another spell when there was a crash.

The first thought that crossed Harry's mind was that the Shrieking Shack was caving in. At the rate the fire was spreading, it was really only a matter of time. When no subsequent crashes followed, a slightly more likely answer occurred to Harry.

It appeared that the same thought had occurred to Hermione. As Harry took off running again, she was close behind.

In the distance, the lights of Hogsmeade were visible, quickly becoming more numerable. Harry was sure people were waking up by now. Considering the Shrieking Shack's reputation, the few left in the town might opt to keep their distance for the time being. Harry wasn't concerned with being discovered just yet, he was too worried for Ron's safety.

Upon reaching the front of the Shrieking Shack, he stopped. Hermione nearly ran into him, catching Harry's shoulder instead before coming to a complete stop. She didn't progress any further either.

The sound had indeed been a window or door or wall (Harry hadn't thought to look and see,) blasting open. Through the ash and snow, Harry could just make out two people trudging away from the shack. One was leaning rather heavily against the other, though both were coughing and gulping in lungfuls of the clean night air.

Draco Malfoy half-lowered, half-dropped Ron to the ground before taking a seat himself. The two sat back to back for several long moments as Harry approached, rather at a loss. He was even more surprised when Hermione took off past him. Expecting her to immediately go to Ron's aide, he was completely baffled when she dropped to her knees and hugged Malfoy.

Apparently, everyone else was just as surprised. Malfoy had tensed up, while Ron had stopped coughing long enough to look back at the two with quite the betrayed look on his face. This didn't last long, however. Soon, Hermione had detached herself from Draco and was hugging Ron. Harry took this opportunity to move in closer.

"You all right?" Harry asked uncertainly, addressing both Ron and Malfoy as he kneeled down nearby.

Hermione still had her arms around Ron as the Shrieking Shack blazed on in the background. Everyone did appear to be all right, though no one said anything. At last Hermione pulled back, still looking rather pale as she smiled at Malfoy again. Harry noticed that one of Hermione's hands was still holding Ron's, as if somehow afraid he might go missing again. "You helped Ron."

Harry looked to Ron, waiting for him to deny what, under any other circumstances, would have sounded completely ridiculous. It was Malfoy who looked completely affronted by the accusation. "I-I did not! I was just going back to get my wand, before it was too late. Weaselbee just happened to be in the same room." He finished a somewhat rushed explanation airily then began to make a real effort in distancing himself a bit from the others.

While curious, Harry knew some of the lights from Hogmeade were getting closer. "Come on," he breathed, still winded from everything that had just happened. "Let's head back to Grimmauld Place for now."

Taking Malfoy by the arm, he pulled the other up with him as he stood. Harry only paused momentarily to make sure his friends were doing the same before spinning and falling back into the air. A moment later, he was standing in front of the shabby sofa in the drawing room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Realizing just where he was, he allowed himself to fall back. Even the hard, lumpy cushions felt like Heaven as Harry stretched his legs out and slid a little lower.

Malfoy had begun to head upstairs, likely to take a bath, (Harry would have liked one himself) when Ron and Hermione appeared nearby. "I never thought I would be so happy to be back here." Ron sounded tired and rightfully so. They had all looked better.

"You really should thank Malfoy, you know," Hermione said, lighting the lamps in the room with a flick of her wand before sitting Ron down. Now that she had decent light, she was looking both of her friends over a bit more thoroughly, making sure they really were both all right.

"Why?" Ron tilted his head against one hand irritably. Harry noticed that he was trying to play this off, but could see clearly that he was embarrassed. Ron's ears were already a bit red, and the same color was quickly reaching his cheeks. "You heard him; he only came back for his wand."

Harry couldn't help but be a little curious as to just what had happened. "But, did he help you?"

"Sort of," Ron admitted, but not before looking around the room to make sure Malfoy had already gone. "I could have gotten out myself! It's just… when I woke up, I couldn't see for all the smoke. I would have sorted things out, it's just… he had that coin thing, dinnit he? He had an unfair advantage."

"Really, Ron, advantage?" Hermione rolled her eyes and took a seat in an armchair beside Ron. "You could have been killed, you're lucky he helped you at all with how you acted before."

Ron snorted. "He deserved more than a busted lip…"

"Ron!" Hermione chided and looked to Harry, who only shrugged. He rather thought Malfoy had deserved it too.

"Well, you should…" But Hermione no longer pressured him to do what she felt would be the right thing. Instead, they sat in silence, Harry working over all that had just happened.

They could have been killed tonight, that much was for certain; but how could the fire possibly have started? Harry was definitely suspecting some sort of magical arsine. He had never known too many shacks without electricity to spontaneously combust during winter.

Harry looked to his friends, trying to gauge what they must be thinking. Hermione was gazing thoughtfully into the lamplight, clearly mulling over all of this as well. Ron's eyes were closed, deep in thought… or perhaps he was just sleeping. Harry decided it must be the latter and stood.

"I'm going to head upstairs," he said. "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep before morning. You guys should too."

Hermione nodded, wished him a quiet goodnight, and Harry climbed the stairs to the second door on the left. This time he thought to knock softly before just barging in. If he walked in on Malfoy changing clothes again, he might wake up to worse things than a frozen bed the next morning.

As soon as Harry had stepped inside the room, he quite nearly backed right out again. The bathroom door had just opened, and he half-expected Malfoy to have left his clothes on the other side of the room. With the way his luck was going, it seemed likely.

"What's wrong with you?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Malfoy was dressed again, albeit rather wet. He closed the door as Draco climbed into bed. He didn't lie down just yet, instead, reaching onto the nightstand where he had sat the contents of his pockets, a spare, charmed coin, his wand, and a folded up piece of parchment.

"Lupin left this for you," Malfoy said, holding the parchment out in Harry's general direction. His tone was a little stiff, and Harry immediately knew he was still angry about the Pensieve.

"Before he left?" Harry asked, knowing that he had but too tired to be particularly coherent. Besides, it had felt like he needed to say something. An awkward silence would be unbearable at this point.

Likewise, Malfoy sounded more fatigued than sarcastic as he responded in a sleepy drawl, "No, Potter, while I was in the bath. Just take it."

The parchment proved to be a map. There were several areas marked, but Harry couldn't make much sense of the tiny lettering and sketchy lines. "What's it of?"

"Where those Weasley twins are being held, I think," Malfoy said with a shrug, though he seemed to know what he was talking about. "I believe Lupin wants you to go after them when you get a chance."

"Right." Harry rolled up the parchment and placed it on the nightstand again. He would show it to Hermione in the morning. "Did he say why we need Fred and George?" Of course, Harry would have helped the Weasleys anyway, but Lupin had sounded as if there had been a particular reason they needed the twins.

Malfoy only shrugged. "I didn't really care enough to ask, but if I had to guess, I'd say they probably know the location of the next Horcrux."

It seemed likely. Harry couldn't bring himself to be too overwhelmed with the matter when he knew what he had to do next.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, feeling awkward as he struggled to find the right words. "I was just- I don't know. I guess there's no excuse for it. I shouldn't have done it."

Malfoy ignored him, lying down and pulling up the covers instead. Though he said nothing, Harry decided to go on. "I didn't see anything…" He searched for something else to say other than, "…you and Zabini having sex". "Ah, well, I didn't see anything you _really _wouldn't have wanted me to see… really."

If Malfoy suspected he was lying, he still said nothing. Harry moved around the bed, trying to, at least, see Draco's face. He wanted to know when he should just give up on apologizing all together. What he did see was Malfoy blushing almost as obviously as Ron did on particularly embarrassing occasions. Granted, he still looked furious, but primarily it seemed he was humiliated before anything else.

"I'm just… sorry," Harry concluded, lamely, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He supposed he should feel lucky that Malfoy hadn't made a grab for his wand and hexed him, though he could tell he was giving it some serious thought as Draco finally sat back up in bed.

"Finished, Potter?"

"I guess." Harry felt a bit like this had been a waste of his time. Obviously, Draco would simply rather pretend none of this had happened. For some reason, Harry found himself far too curious to just let it go at that. "So you and Blaise Zabini…"

Malfoy tensed, looking more annoyed than embarrassed now. "Obviously, I mean, you saw for yourself, didn't you?" he asked somewhat angrily.

"I just, didn't notice," Harry said quickly, not sure himself exactly what he was getting at. "I always assumed that you and Parkinson…"

"Well, you would be wrong." Malfoy sighed and finally volunteered his own thoughts on the matter. "She was a bit smothering, really. She was a fine friend, it's just she seemed to decide on her own we were going out after a while. Honestly, it was just easier to humor her. By then, Blaise didn't really care."

"But you didn't, really… er… love Blaise, right? You both said you were… thinking of someone else?" Harry was sure he was already stepping over some sort of invisible line. Before Malfoy could tell him to simply shut up, he switched tactics. "You never really struck me as the type to be… Well, statistically, someone in Hogwarts _had _to be, I just never thought – I mean, it's pretty horrifying really." No, horrifying definitely wasn't the right word to use there.

Malfoy had faced him, quite insulted by what had just been said. "Will you just find another bedroom and leave me alone?"

"I didn't mean it like that! Surprising, there, that's what I meant! Damn it, I don't know!" Harry kicked frustratedly at the blankets. "Ginny wasn't right – at least it didn't feel quite right- and if she wasn't, it makes me scared that-" Harry cut himself off, not entirely sure when this conversation had gone so horribly wrong, but certain it had. Malfoy was still facing him, the expression on his face one of mixed surprise and amusement.

"Can we just forget we said anything?" Harry was suddenly the one eager to pretend as if none of this had happened.

"No," Malfoy said quickly, sounding as if he was suppressing laughter. He made no effort to hide a smile. "So you think you're gay, huh?"

"No," Harry said quickly, instinctively. "I don't know." His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel his face growing very warm. "Honestly, I don't know how I could be sure." He winced, knowing that couldn't have made much sense at all. To his surprise, Malfoy laughed. It wasn't the fact that he laughed that was unexpected, it was that the laugh wasn't entirely cruel.

"You'll figure it out," Malfoy said, almost sympathetically. "Now if you're going to sleep in here, take a bath. You smell awful."

Harry got up and headed to the bathroom, not having it in him even to remind Malfoy _whose_ house this was. He was still covered in soot and ash. A bath still didn't sound like a bad idea.

* * *

The warm water had felt wonderful, and after finding a change of clothes, he headed back into the bedroom. The room was dark, but Harry had no trouble finding the bed. None of this really seemed appropriate. He should just find another bedroom. Why didn't he?

In the dull light coming from the windows, he could make out Malfoy, stretched out on his back and likely asleep. He was reminded of the Pensieve and the Room of Requirement and of what Malfoy had told him earlier.

_"You'll figure it out."_

How was he supposed to figure any of this out? Just last year, he had been fairly confident he finally had girls figured out. He wondered if kissing another boy would be like kissing Ginny. He suspected it would be different from his dream and the words tender and passionate didn't strike him as likely adjectives for the act either.

Harry continued to stand near the bed, watching Malfoy's sleeping form thoughtfully. What would normally be an awful idea, now didn't seem quite so ludicrous. Extreme drowsiness and something else he couldn't quite place gave him the required push, Harry leaned over the bed, resting one knee against the mattress. He placed his hands either side of the pillow, being careful to try and not to wake the young man beneath him.

Harry's movements were slow but deliberate. He drew closer, his breathing shallow until he was in position. It would take very little effort to kiss him now. Harry was so close, he could feel Malfoy's breath, and yet something within him had finally snapped awake and started yelling what an awful idea this had been. He had to agree. Suddenly this all seemed very silly indeed. A kiss would undoubtedly wake Malfoy up, and what would he say then? No, he just needed to back away and go find a bed of his own.

Harry began to back away, but Malfoy was too quick for him. Before he had time to react, both of Draco's hands were behind his head, pulling him the rest of the way down until their lips were together. Harry's eyes were wide at first and his heart still pounding. Malfoy was kissing him and it was, definitely, unlike anything he had ever experienced with Ginny.

His heart still pounding, Harry suddenly felt dizzy. The room still spinning around him, he kissed Draco back. It might have been only a few seconds or minutes before Harry jerked away and stumbled back. "I-" he gasped, looking away as Malfoy sat up. "I'm going to find my own bedroom – not that that wasn't – God, I just need to think." Harry made it down the hall, up the stairs, and into another bedroom, putting an entire floor between himself and Draco Malfoy before he gave himself time to actually breath.

Somehow, Harry had managed to get some sleep that night and, apparently, well into the day. Harry sat up in bed, trying to suppress his memories from the night before. In his head, he couldn't help but begin to draw parallels between Malfoy and Ginny. He wondered how the two could be so different and yet so very similar. Rubbing his mouth absently, Harry stood and went to the door.

Malfoy must be angry at him. After all of that he had simply left the room. Harry was definitely more responsible for initiating things than Draco was; at least that was the way Harry liked to see it. Gathering up as much courage as he could manage, Harry left the room and began to head downstairs.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, nearly running into Harry as she left the bedroom he had left Malfoy in. In one hand she was holding the map. "Well, not quite morning. You really slept in today."

"Is Malfoy in there?" Harry asked, getting to the point before he backed down.

Hermione shook her head. "He told me Lupin left this, and I thought I should have a look at it. Malfoy's downstairs, with Ron." There was smile on her face as she said the last few words. Hermione seemed to anticipate any questions Harry had been about to ask, because she motioned him down the stairs as she began her descent.

"E3 to D2"

Harry was rather shocked to find Ron and Malfoy sitting across from each other, engaged in a game of chess. Were things finally becoming a little more civil between all of them?

"All right, G5 to F7. Check Mate." Ron smiled triumphantly as his knight trapped the king.

Malfoy didn't seem to be the most gracious of losers. "That's not fair, I can't see the board. You should tell me when you're planning to do that."

Ron snorted. "I already let you take forever to plan your next move. You're lucky we're not playing timed games."

"You're playing at an advantage," Malfoy insisted, muttering a few select insults under his breath. "- can't even see how you would afford a proper chess set."

Ron said nothing to this, merely looking guiltily down at the pieces. Harry recognized the set as the one he had "salvaged" from the Malfoy Manor. "Do you want to play again or not?"

Perhaps things weren't becoming as civil as Harry had hoped after all. Hermione only shrugged. "It's been about like this for a couple of hours now. Malfoy hasn't won once, and Ron's been rubbing it in. Malfoy had the white side attack Ron once… Honestly, I'm afraid it's the best we can hope for. You have to admit, it _is_ better."

Harry got off the stairs and went to speak with Malfoy before they could begin another game. "Can we talk?"

Ron looked from Malfoy to Harry. "Go on, it'll take a while to set back up anyway." The pieces were still righting themselves along the board.

Without saying anything, Malfoy stood, allowing Harry to put a hand to his arm and lead him down the stairs to the kitchen, where they could be alone. Harry wished he had planned this out a bit more thoroughly. He had just opened his mouth when Draco beat him to having the first word.

"Were you serious when you said you could get me my sight back?"

Harry's thoughts swam uncertainly for a moment as he tried to place what Malfoy was saying. This was an entirely different subject than he had been prepared to tackle, but he thought back to two nights before when he had blurted so much out.

"Yes, but-" Harry's heart sank. The cauldron and, more importantly, its contents… He had left all of that back in the tunnel between Hogwarts and the Shrieking Shack. Forgetting what he had come down here for in the first place, Harry hurried up the stairs, across the drawing room, back up to his new room, and pulled out his wand.

"Harry?"

Harry groaned as he heard Hermione's voice coming up the stairs after him. He was already busy pulling on his trainers and coat. He'd hoped to leave and come back before anyone had time to notice he had even gone.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione's eyes traveled from Harry's coat, to his wand then back to Harry's face, expectantly.

"The Shrieking Shack, or what's left of it. I left… well, everything…" Tying his left trainer, Harry stood in preparation to Apparate.

Hermione seemed to realize she couldn't stop him, but did pull out her own wand. "Well, let's go quickly."

"You're not-"

"Oh, yes I am. There's something I need to retrieve as well. Now, remember to Apparate some distance away from the shack, just in case." And before Harry could stop her, she vanished.

Groaning inwardly, Harry followed suit. He landed in the sparse forest a fair distance from the Shack. To his relief, the fire was out and no one was in sight. The wreckage would need to be cleaned up eventually, but there were so many collapsed buildings with the war these days that, obviously, the loss of the Shrieking Shack was no great tragedy.

From where he stood, Harry could see nothing but collapsed wood and some semblance of an old fireplace. Half the shack was still standing, though just barely. It stood like a husk, crumbling and flaking off ash and charred bits of debris in the wind. He could already see Hermione, kicking over some of the blackened boards, shivering and hugging herself against the cold.

"What are _you _looking for?" Harry asked, once he had gotten close enough to speak quietly. He removed his coat and offered it to her, but Hermione only shook her head.

"I'm looking for my books," she said, stepping carefully over more of the debris and in the shuffling through more of the fallen bits of ceiling and wall. "You remember, the ones I had in my bag."

Harry had always been under the impression that paper tended to be flammable. "Hermione, I don't think-"

"Here they are, thank goodness!" Hermione prised her backpack from between what looked to have once been a rafter and part of a bed frame.

"But how-"

"I always charm my things to be protected against the elements," Hermione said, opening the bag to make sure everything was accounted for. "Don't you? You should."

Harry had to admit that she had a point. With everything they had been through during their years at Hogwarts, it would definitely be prudent to take those sort of safeguards. Of course, Harry had never actually owned a book he cared enough about to take extra measures to protect… except for, perhaps, one. Harry quickly pushed the thought from his mind and moved to where he was sure the tunnel still remained.

After shifting several boards he was able to clear a path, and after a few steps he nearly tripped over his cauldron. He had completely forgotten he had left his Invisibility Cloak draped over it. Removing the cloak, he riffled through the contents. Everything seemed unaffected by the heat. Of course, most of it could be replaced anyway. It was what he had stuffed into a bag of powdered Mugwort that he was most concerned about.

Harry knew little about decomposition. He had never taken Muggle anatomy classes, nor had he had much of an urge to ever look up that sort of thing on his own. Still, he imagined the two, white, orb-like objects in the bag should be in a much worse state. Suppressing another gag, he put the bag back down, unwilling to dwell upon the finer aspects of magical embalming.

"Harry! Come on, let's go back!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry hefted the cauldron and began to move away from the wreckage of the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

The light from Lupin's wand didn't do much to cut through the darkness. He stumbled over roots and dips in the ground as he went, but didn't dare slow his pace. The cabin was in sight, and while he didn't have a clear idea of the exact time, he knew he was already pushing it.

Lupin was relieved to find the door still unlocked. Once inside, he leaned back against its surface, catching his breath. "Se-" Lupin paused, recalling that before he had left, Pettigrew had been lurking about in the back rooms.

"He's not here," said a voice from the kitchens. "Lock the door and you can stay in there a while longer. We'll hear him coming, I'm sure."

Lupin took care to lock the door before crossing to the antique couch in the center of the room. "They've gone back to Grimmauld Place, which is a relief. They still have Draco with them. If they were anywhere else they would be attracting Death Eaters. They have been already… Someone will have to find a way to fix that… "

"Namely us." The door opened and Severus Snape emerged, two long-stemmed glasses and a wine bottle in hand. "I'm sure Potter and those friends of his are ages from figuring anything of the sort out." Taking a seat from two glasses, he poured a generous amount of wine that matched the deep red of the carpet into both glasses and passed the first to Lupin.

"Don't say things like that," Lupin said with a frown, accepting the glass from Snape. He was as angry that Snape had purposely seated himself so far away, as he was towards the insulting of his former pupils. "Hermione could, I'm sure. She's always been _very _clever. You know that."

Lupin sipped thoughtfully at his wine, unfocusing his eyes as he thought over the events of the night. "I'm sure it will take them a while to find Fred and George. Right now Harry is more concerned with… " Lupin sat up a little straighter, and sat his glass down on the table between them.

"Harry believes he's found a potion to restore Draco's sight. I didn't see the recipe – it seems Harry had torn it out – but I didn't manage to get a look at the book itself."

"And?"

"Black binding, red, faded text. I couldn't make out the title, but most of the recipes were fairly Dark. Let's see, before the ripped out page there was one for something to do with spirit communication and, after it, a few pages of theory about Thestrels."

"Thestrels?" Snape considered that for a moment. Obviously, the book sounded familiar. From Lupin's understanding, a good many of his books had been confiscated from his now abandoned home at Spinner's End. Suddenly, his expression became one of mixed surprise and disbelief.

Lupin was too caught of guard to decide whether Snape looked worried or merely doubtful. "What? Was the book one of yours?"

Serverus nodded. "If not the same one, then another copy of the original." He shook his head and looked down at the floor so that his lank hair curtained his pale face. "I doubt Potter would have it in him to acquire those sort of ingredients… then again… This isn't good, Remus."

"Why?" Lupin was getting worried now. They both knew he wouldn't be able to make it back to meet Harry and the others for a few days, at least. "It won't work?" Lupin didn't care to guess at the absolute worst just then. Things were stressful enough without having to worry about any new potential danger.

"It will work," Snape assured him. "That's the problem."

A/N: I hope that was readable. If you got stuck on a few areas that frustrated you, don't worry, it'll be replaced with the nice, clean beta'd version soon enough.

On a slightly more annoying note, I have roughly 100 people with this fic on alert. I know I've said it before; I'm flattered people are reading this story at all, but review! Feedback really helps, and it's frustrating when I see people fav'ing and putting this story on alert when they're not leaving even the shortest of comments.

Obviously, this isn't aimed at the people who do review. You're all awesome XD!

On an even more annoying note, did anyone hate the OotP film as much as I did? The thought that Yates will be directing HBP (my favorite of the books as of yet) makes me nervous.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I didn't think I would finish this chapter before the 21st but then the power went out, and one thing led to another. As was the case with chapter thirteen, this one was beta'd either, so keep that in mind.

Chapter Fourteen

The smells wafting up from the cauldron were thick and fetid. On more than one occasion, Harry had tugged his collar up over his mouth and nose as he continued to stir. He wished Hermione would stay and give him some assistance, but she only stopped at the door periodically to give a disapproving sniff and vague advice.

The directions were smudged and faded. Harry had problems enough with potion making without the aide of poor instructions. Luckily, the potion itself seemed straightforward enough. There were no particulars when it came to how to stir or chopping roots. The only ingredient Harry found himself fretting over were the objects he had tucked away in the bag of Mugwort.

"You're really going to let him drink that?"

Harry gave a start and looked back to the door, where Hermione was eyeing the bag of Mugwort with knowing trepidation.

"He'll be furious if he finds out, well, after being sick. It just – it isn't worth it." Hermione still made a point to keep her voice down, for which Harry was thankful.

"I didn't plan on telling him." Harry said, gathering some courage (or perhaps it was gall) and emptying the bag onto his cutting board.

"Eyes," Hermione said in disgust, closing her own and putting her back to Harry. "It's barbaric and sick and-and it's just wrong, Harry!"

"But, if he gets his sight back, do you really think he'll care?" Harry was, again, becoming angry with Hermione. Of course, it was only because he knew she was right. He just didn't want a reminder of that every few minutes.

"You don't even know if it will work." Hermione shuddered as she heard the sound of knife against cutting board.

That was true, but Harry had already gone to great lengths to convince himself it would. "If you're not going to help-" But Hermione had already gone.

Inside the cauldron, the contents were a murky gray. It certainly didn't look magical. If anything, it reminded Harry, equivocally of used dishwater, very thick, used dishwater. Unintentionally looking away, he lifted his cutting board and dumped the contents into the potion below. As he shook free the residue with a sharp flick of the wrist, a sudden flood of acrid smoke poured upwards. Harry coughed and stepped back, waving his free hand to divert some of what was coming at him, only to find that it was no longer there. Opening his eyes cautiously, Harry stepped forward and looked down into the cauldron.

The color had changed from a dirty gray to the purest shade of black Harry had ever seen. It stretched rigidly across the surface, as if the potion had transfigured itself into a solid mass of glass. Just be sure, Harry reached for a flask from the table and dipped it in. The surface gave way and rushed into the opening of the container like silk. As soon as he pulled his hand back and closed the flask, the surface was once more glass-like, as if nothing had disturbed it.

The potion itself no longer had any discernable scent. It didn't even reflect the room around him. Harry frowned, leaning over the cauldron further. He couldn't see himself, but he was sure he saw something. It was wispy and insubstantial and flitting lazily from side to side.

Harry pushed his glasses a little further up his nose, hoping to get a little better focus on whatever the reflection was when he was interrupted.

"Potter?"

Harry jumped, nearly letting his glasses fall down into the cauldron. He had no desire to retrieve them from that. "Wha-" he stepped back quickly, took a deep breath, and managed something a little more intelligible. "Hey, what is it?"

Malfoy entered the room, crossing to the chair near the window. However, he lingered for a moment near the cauldron then faced Harry. "Is this what's supposed to give me my sight back?" His voice was hopeful but cautious. Harry didn't usually like to get his hopes up either and wondered why he was the only one managing it this time.

"That's the idea. It needs to sit for a while though." The recipe said nothing of the sort, but Harry was beginning to feel as if he could stand to wait a little longer. All this doubt was beginning to make him a little nervous. Besides, he wanted to speak with Malfoy first. There were probably a few things that needed to be addressed.

"Malfoy, last night…" Harry felt his face growing warm. This had all been so much easier in his head. "You – I mean, I…" It was hard to gauge what Malfoy was thinking, and Harry found himself wishing he'd initiated this conversation when Draco had his sight back. That bandage was certainly getting in the way now.

"I thought you'd finally come to terms with it," Malfoy said at last, when the silence had gone on long enough to give the impression that Harry had lost where he was going with the conversation. "I guess you always were slow, but, for Merlin's sake, Potter." He finished walking to the chair and sat down.

Ignoring the insult, Harry took a few hesitant steps toward the armchair. He stopped a few feet from Draco, deciding on his exact words before opening his mouth this time. "With what, that I might be gay?"

"I think we've all figured that one out by now – and by 'all', I suppose I mean just you and me." Malfoy felt behind himself, making sure there were no cobwebs (There were quite a few of these in Grimmauld Place and, more than once, Harry had spotted Malfoy fastidiously, pulling them from his hair.) before leaning back. "You've slept near me almost every night since I wound up at the Weasley's. I mean, if not in the same bed, then at least within arm's length. There was more than that, of course. I mean, you can't act like it wasn't obvious. I thought it was safe to assume-"

"What?" Harry took a step closer, suddenly gaining confidence he hadn't known was there. "What was obvious? -Because I didn't see you stopping me from doing any of those things. I don't know how I feel about you, Malfoy, but don't act like it's just me! Maybe I want you like I wanted Ginny, but this is just something I'm figuring out now, isn't it? For all I know, it was seeing you with Blaise in the Pensieve that triggered all of this. Blaise is attractive, right? Maybe if I was around him for a long time too, I'm feel the same way." This all sounded very silly to Harry in retrospect, but he was getting a response. He didn't need to see Malfoy's eyes to know that he had just gone a little paler and sat up a little straighter.

"You're the one who's had this _figured out _for years now," Harry went on, quite unable to silence himself at this point. "I would think you could make more sense of all these feelings than I could at this point. I was pulling away last night. I was ready to go upstairs and sleep somewhere else. It was _you _who kissed _me_. Do you think you could love me or are you just attracted to me? Do you have _any _of this _figured out_, because I don't!"

Harry finally stopped to breathe. Somehow, he felt lighter for having said all of that. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked as if he'd just been told the world most definitely wasn't round and he was foolish for having ever thought it was. He shifted uncomfortably in the armchair for a moment.

"Well?" Harry felt as though, if he didn't press for an answer now, he would never get one. When there was still no response, he raised his voice slightly. "Well, wh-"

"I don't know!" Malfoy snapped, making these words as venomous as he could manage. Suddenly, Harry felt as if he'd done something wrong again. He'd only managed to make Draco as uncomfortable as he had been on this subject. "Well, I thought I knew… I don't anymore." Malfoy's shoulders hunched forward and, he hung his head against his hands. Whether he was very embarrassed, upset, or just thinking, Harry couldn't tell.

Still spurred forward from his last burst of courage, Harry went down to his knees in front of the armchair. "All right," he said, lowering his voice and pulling the other's hands away. "We both have fair warning this time. You're welcome to stop me if that's what you want." Harry kissed Malfoy then, still holding onto both of the other's hands as he did so.

The kiss was clumsier and significantly more awkward than the night before. Harry found himself beginning to kiss Malfoy like he had kissed Ginny, realizing that this might be a mistake and switching tactics. Of course, he only really knew of one general way to kiss someone, and trying something else gave him limited options. As strange as it was, he could still feel his heart pounding as it had the night before. It wasn't adrenaline, because he was sure he could feel that too. He couldn't place the emotion, but it felt right somehow.

Malfoy pulled away first, taking a few shallow breaths followed by calmer, slightly deeper ones before he pushed Harry back slightly. For one, terrifying moment, Harry thought he meant to stand and leave the room. Instead he slid off the chair and down onto his knees in front of Harry. "You're a lousy kisser, Potter. I don't know how the Weaselette put up with it."

Harry began to prepare an annoyed retort, but breathed a completely inappropriate sigh of relief instead. "Sorry," he said, the end of the word becoming a laugh. "I thought kissing a guy might be different."

"Not really," Malfoy said, putting his hands to Harry shoulders. "Well, that might be a lie. I wouldn't know. The only girl I've ever kissed was Pansy and what with the nagging urge to get away and trying to keep tabs on where her hands were going, I was pretty distracted."

Harry found himself smiling again as he pictured that. He knew Malfoy only thought of Pansy as a friend and, for that reason, found it difficult to be jealous.

"Just kiss me like you would kiss Ginny," Malfoy said, his hands traveling up to Harry's face. Even with the coin, Harry knew it had to be strange to determine just where everything was without being able to see. "You'd just better not be thinking of Ginny. If you do I'll – well, I won't know, but the guilt will eat you alive, I'm sure."

"Oh, it will," Harry agreed in slightly sarcastic, but not humorless tones. "So, as I understand it, in this you'll be the gir-"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm leaving now," Malfoy warned and Harry quickly bit back the urge to do so anyway.

"All right," Harry breathed, his smile fading as he waited for Malfoy. Closing his eyes, he felt the edge of Malfoy's thumb graze his lips and the fingers of his other hand lightly trace the bridge of his nose. Harry knew Draco was just getting a better idea of how to lean in to kiss him, but his heart began racing again anyway.

Malfoy only lowered his hands once his lips had made contact with Harry's. He was a passionate kisser, more sure of himself than Harry had been. His grip settled upon Harry's shoulders at first, and Harry got the impression that he should figure out something to do with his hands as well. He raised them awkwardly and then, with great uncertainty, did just what he would have with Ginny. When Malfoy didn't hit the hands from his waist, Harry let them remain there with a bit more confidence.

Had Malfoy not been quite so tall, Harry might have felt more in charge. Instead, he just felt small and increasingly more light-headed. The kiss wouldn't be a long one if he pulled back now, and Harry felt a desperate need to prove himself. It was as if anything that happened between them from here on depended on his making this kiss count.

Pushing back from the armchair, Harry pressed his body to Malfoy's and wrapped one arm around him completely before falling a short distance sideways. The kiss almost broke at that point as Malfoy began to pull away. Instead, Harry caught them both quickly, lowering himself and Malfoy down to the floor.

Able to move a bit further up from this position and still on his knees, Harry felt as if he had slightly more control over the situation. This might have been something of an illusion, since Malfoy still seemed to be leading things. Between varying sensations of tongue and teeth, Harry found his head still dizzy and his handle on time slipping. When he felt Malfoy's hands sliding from his shoulders, he finally pulled away.

Harry dropped his head against Draco's shoulder for the moment, giving his senses a moment to recover. His lips were still moist and tingling, and while it wasn't unpleasant, it distracted him from speaking.

"Better." Malfoy conceded at last, putting a hand back to Harry's shoulder. "A little ambitious, but better."

Harry thought, with a wince, that Ginny had never shoved him off to the side when they were done snogging. "I still don't know what any of it means," he grumbled, as Malfoy propped himself up so that Harry could pull back his still pinned arm.

"Did you expect a kiss to solve everything," Draco faced him at that, curious.

"No," Harry admitted. "But it could have been… clearer. It feels better than it did with Ginny, though. What about you?"

"I've have better kisses," Malfoy said, sneezing. "This floor is disgusting."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said quickly, sitting up as well.

"I don't know," Malfoy sighed, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. "This all seems wrong, but-" He offered a hand down to Harry who allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "I think things would get even more confusing if we just stopped this here."

"No kidding." Harry held onto Malfoy's hand a little longer than was necessary. "But is it all right if we keep this from the others?" He didn't feel like explaining everything to Ron and Hermione when he wasn't entirely sure of what was going on himself.

"What's in it for me."

Harry's expression fell, and he quickly tried to decide on which of the dozen reasons to keep this quiet to spout first.

"Kidding, Potter," Malfoy said quickly. "Believe it or not, I really don't care what your friends know."

"Funny," Harry muttered crossing back to the cauldron. His heart was still pounding, and he did his best to hide just how much all of this was affecting him. Had he been preparing for this moment for years and continually reassured that it was going to happen, Harry doubted he would have believed it, much less been ready.

When, he wondered, might this have happened had he come to terms with it earlier. It would have made life at Hogwarts a lot easier, that much was for certain. He might not completely hated Slytherin, or that hatred might have, at least, been a bit more subdued. Dumbledore might even still be alive…

"Is it ready?"

"Huh?" Harry realized Malfoy was standing at his side and questioning the contents of the cauldron. They hadn't changed. Harry decided that was promising, but was still hesitant about seeing whether it would work or not now that it had finally come down to it. "As ready as it'll ever be, I guess."

Harry picked up the flask he had filled earlier and faced Draco. "If it works, will you stay? I mean, once you have your sight back…"

Malfoy put a hand to the flask but didn't take it from Harry just yet. "Have I said anything to make you think I wouldn't?"

"No," Harry said quietly, feeling foolish for still worrying. He had to fight the urge to hug Malfoy for his own reassurance then. Their relationship was still uncertain to him, and the rush of courage he had felt earlier was quickly fading. Now he was more focused upon the potion Malfoy had in his hand.

"Where'd you find the recipe?" Draco asked, obviously quite nervous as well.

"A book of Hermione's," Harry said, trying to keep his answer vague. "It's Dark Magic, but it's all I can find."

"And what's in it?"

Harry felt his pulse quicken at that. "Different roots and herbs," he said, managing to sound surprisingly convincing. "I was able to swipe all of the ingredients from Hogwarts while we were at the Shrieking Shack. And, before you ask, I don't know exactly how it works; I just know what it's supposed to do." The thought of re-growing bones came to mind, and Harry hoped it wouldn't be quite that painful. Even if it did restore his sight, Harry had a feeling Malfoy would manage to be angry with him.

Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the flask and brought it to his lips. Harry looked away. He knew what was suffused inside the dark liquid and couldn't bring himself to even think about what it was Malfoy was drinking.

There was silence, then a hollow clatter as the flask hit the floor. Harry spun and faced Malfoy, who had kneeled down on the floor, rubbing at the bandages on his face as if something stinging had gotten into his eyes. His breathing began quicker and more ragged as the stinging only seemed to increase. He gave a quiet cry of pain then a louder one.

Harry took a step closer, unsure of what to do. Malfoy only shoved him away once he was within arm's length. Harry had a feeling he would just be hit if he tried any comforting at all. Instead he moved back to the wall and watched as Draco went down to both knees. His cries of anguish were so loud by now, Harry was certain the others could hear him from downstairs.

Sure enough, he soon heard footsteps rushing upwards. Ron and Hermione appeared in the door a moment later, both looking alarmed. Harry was confident Hermione knew what was happening. She gave him a concerned look that seemed to ask if this was what was supposed to happen?

"What the hell is going on!" Ron was the only one of them who hadn't been filled in on any of this. He rushed to the center of the room and crouched down in front of Malfoy, reaching around to remove the bandages the other was clawing at. Apparently, Draco was far too distracted with the pain the push him away.

Hermione was quick to help Ron, going behind Malfoy to restrain his arms. Ron was blocking Harry's view of anything that was going on, but he was sure he caught a glimpse of red. Suddenly, Harry was terrified. What if Hermione had been right all along? What if all of this really had been a mistake? He was frozen to the spot, unable to force himself to go forward and join the others.

The room went silent. "What happened?" Ron asked, breathless as Hermione moved back, letting Draco fall against her. He appeared to be unconscious, but Harry couldn't be sure.

"Harry-" Hermione's eyes darted in his direction for a moment. She looked pale and worried and rather ill. "Harry found a potion that was supposed to restore vision and, well, we don't know if it worked yet…"

"Don't know!" Ron was obviously still alarmed by all of this. "He's bleeding, that is a good sign, is it?" There seemed to even be some concern on Ron's part but Harry paid little mind to it, rushing closer instead.

"It was Dark Magic, Ron. Dark Magic is unpredictable, but, actually it does look as if he's healed a bit…" There was indeed blood smeared across Malfoy's eyes and smudged rivulets of it on his cheeks, where it had dripped down while he was sitting up.

Hermione took the bloodstained bandage Ron had pulled off in one hand and flipped it over so that the clean side was facing down. "See?" she said, dabbing away the red carefully.

Harry leaned a little closer and felt a slight relief when he saw that the area around Malfoy's eyes was no longer ruined. There was still a light scar visible, but it seemed to have skipped over the eyes entirely. "Does that mean it worked?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I don't know." Hermione put the bandage down and pushed Malfoy back into a sitting position as she began to stand. "Let's get him to a bedroom, all right?" Even as she spoke, Harry felt the room becoming colder.

Ron, who had taken a hold of Malfoy's shoulders, obviously intending to help Harry get him to a bedroom as Hermione had suggested, exhaled slowly. "What's happening now?" he asked worriedly, watching his own, crystalline breath disperse in the air around him.

"I don't-" Hermione went back to her knees. For a moment Harry was puzzled then realized it was because Malfoy appeared to be coming around. He looked pale, but no longer seemed to be in any pain. Of course, he didn't appear to be particularly happy either. "Malfoy?" Hermione said quietly, sitting behind him so that he could lean back again. Ron was too confused to appear particularly envious.

Harry moved around Hermione to kneel down beside Ron. He was getting anxious now. If the potion had worked maybe he could finally stop feeling so horribly guilty for all of this. Maybe he could even find the nerve to tell Malfoy the truth.

Malfoy began to open his eyes but closed them again quickly with a wince. Hermione raised her wand and flicked it at the lamp on the table. It dimmed then extinguished itself, leaving all of them in near darkness.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had never been a big fan of pain. He generally tried to avoid it, and, with the exception of these last few years, had done a rather good job of just that. Naturally, drinking a strange potion came with a certain amount of risk, but what he stood to gain seemed worth it.

The potion itself had tasted metallic and earthy. It hadn't felt like a liquid at all. Had it not felt as if something was suddenly crawling around inside his skull, he would have guessed it had simply evaporated.

Understandably, he had started feel uncomfortable at that point. His eyes began to burn dully and then sharper, more distinct pains had followed. Soon slight discomfort was becoming absolute agony. It was as if his eyes were being cannibalized by whatever this thing was, creeping around inside his head.

After that he hadn't been aware of much. He had heard Harry coming closer and shoved him away as hard as he could manage. Immediately he regretted the act; he would have much rather punched him. _Fucking, Potter_, he thought over the pain, furiously. _I should have known better than to take anything that idiot made himself._

Somewhere, Malfoy thought he heard voices, but his senses were far too overwhelmed to be sure. He lost any idea of where his body was. He could have still been standing up (though he doubted it) or lying down or flying for all he knew or cared. That disconnection slowly became more pronounced and, for a moment, Malfoy feared he might be dead.

The fear was a brief one. From the way Malfoy had always understood it, death is a pretty definite line. Either you are or you aren't, and if he was then the worst of it was over. That notion was dismissed quickly as his eyes began to sting again. No, he wasn't dead but at this point that wasn't saying a lot.

Luckily the pain had dulled again. It was merely uncomfortable once more and, Malfoy decided, felt a lot like liquid. It wasn't blood; he'd felt that earlier, warm and sticky on his cheeks. It felt as if something was spidering from the back of his eyes to the front, enveloping them in something vaguely wet and silky.

The world around him suddenly felt much cooler now, and though his eyes were closed, he was sure he saw impressions of shapes in front of him. They were fleeting and continuously moving and changing like the after-image you get from staring at a light for too long. For a moment, Malfoy was sure he had just seen the face of his father. Everything went dark again almost immediately. Nothing felt uncomfortable, save for the hard floor beneath him.

Malfoy tried to open his eyes at that point, and the world flashed an alarming white. Immediately, his hopes began to sink. Did that mean all of that pain had been for nothing? He tried to open his eyes again and managed to do so more successfully this time.

The world was still white and blank but, darkness begin to drip slowly back into his range of vision. It wasn't quite like being blind. Malfoy was sure he saw an occasional light flicker past. Even the darkness seemed softer, more like a black backdrop than the nothingness of before. Whatever it was, it wasn't what he had hoped for.

"Malfoy?"

Draco sat up, facing the direction in which he had heard Harry's voice. The coin in his pocket caught what Harry had said and for a moment he could "see" the outline of the room and Ron and Hermione near him. He realized Harry was directly ahead and reached out in that direction, nervously. Hitting him could wait until later.

"Can you see anything?" Harry asked, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"No," Malfoy said uncertainly. The lights were difficult to ignore however, and the longer he faced Harry, the more he thought he saw a faint, silver outline around him, even without the aide of the coin. "It didn't work."

"I told you it wouldn't-"

"Shut up, Hermione!"

Malfoy wasn't sure if Harry sounded angry or distraught. Normally the outburst would have just amused him, as it generally did when he heard these new traveling companions of his arguing amongst themselves. Instead, he found himself focusing upon something past the silvery outline of Harry. It was something gloomily familiar; something large and hulking and dangerous. It was darker than the other blackness and looming threateningly only a few feet away. Malfoy found himself moving back as the creature shifted its weight, moving forward.

Malfoy's first and only urge was to get as far away from it as he possibly could. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed to the door in a panic. His footsteps alone created enough noise for the coin to guide him, though glimpses of lights and dark writhing figures were proving to be more than a little distracting.

Rushing into what he hoped was his bedroom on the second floor, Malfoy finally stopped. He slammed the door and closed his eyes, not caring to see if anything was there with him. For the first time since he had woken up, confused, at the Burrow, Malfoy actually wished to be blind. The normal nothingness that returned when he kept his eyes closed was welcome and, as far as he was concerned, could stay there from this point on.

The urge to hit Harry was still there, but so was something kin to guilt. After all they had done for him – or at least all Potter had tried to do for him – how could he have left him there with that monster? The answer came to Draco without requiring much thought. The creature wouldn't hurt Harry, how could it? The Grim only foretold great calamity, it didn't cause it.

A/N: Ah, the Grim: a cuddly little death omen if ever there was one. You people didn't really think I was going to bring back Malfoy's sight, did you? Psah, mercy is for losers. Honestly, I planned on this happening earlier in the story, but my chapters never space out the way they look in my head. This is, actually, part of what spurred me to name the story, _Caliginosity_.

Is everyone ready for book seven? I'm not. I can't help but think back fondly to reading the first Harry Potter book as a little girl. It was before I had made the decision to leave my father behind and was still subjected to hanging around this drunk and the girlfriend half his age, who hated me.

I couldn't help but feel sympathetic with Harry, at home under the stairs as I sat reading in what was left of my bedroom once the girlfriend had had her way with the house (a mattress on the floor of the portion of the house used as a storage room.). Harry Potter was a welcome escape through the years and troubles that followed, bullying at school, anorexia, and an abusive relationship with my mother (who has, since before my last update, fallen back off the proverbial wagon.). I don't have any negative connections with the series, on the contrary it's something I still go back to when I'm feeling down.

It makes me sad to think that in a couple of days it will all be over. Sure, we'll have the movies to look forward to, but it isn't quite the same now that we'll all know how it ends. Of course, this had to happen some day, and I'm looking forward to getting my hands on the copy I've had ordered for months, but it's still saddening.

With any luck, _Deathly Hallows_ with be all we hope it will be. Until then, stay away from all those leaks! I don't think anyone of them are the real deal anyway. I was naughty and took a peak at some of the news stories about them. You'll be glad to know, they all sound rather fake.

Oh, and I want to say a big thank you to all my reviewers! The reviews for this last chapter practically doubled, and I'm thrilled. Even if you're not good at writing them, English isn't your first language, or any other number of reasons, I want to hear your feedback. Thanks, again! You can expect another update once I've had time to read DH.


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